New Blood International Academy
by asagi5
Summary: "It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities." Hogwarts would introduce him to magic, but it would be New Blood that would make him great.
1. Chapter 1

**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**

Disclaimer: I own only the original characters in this story. Every all other characters belong to their rich owners.

**Chapter One:**

**The State Of Things**

* * *

Papa had loved Lily even though she was not the boy he so wanted. He bought her things, and drove her places and indulged in her whims with a smile and a sparkle of pride. When Lily did strange things papa smiled at his daughter and calmed down her panic and hid his own terror that something was wrong with his princess. On that fateful day when Lily turned eleven, papa rejoiced that his daughter was even more special than he thought and was silently relieved there was an explanation for the strangeness. He tried not to show alarm and dismay that this magic school was all the way in Scotland and that _muggles_ such as them were not allowed to even visit, not even when Lily was sick or injured. Despite the warning bells that were going off in the back of his head at the very obvious prejudice, it was papa who eased the worry from his wife's eyes and reassured his elder daughter who was upset that she couldn't go with the little sister who she had spent the last eleven years protecting.

Lily had come back from her first year at Hogwarts a mean spirited, rude little thing that watched her family and their home and their world with judgemental eyes. She never brought any friends home, never introduced any friends to her family. Their parents had tried not to let it bother them, giving Lily more attention and treating her extra special in hopes of making up for their 'faults'. It pained Petunia to watch her mother scurry around when Lily was due to return, decorating and re-arranging and subjecting Petunia to answer several "_do you think Lily would like this colour Pet?_". All mama got for her efforts was a look of scorn at the house's latest change and then a barrage of information on Hogwarts and how she was looking forward to _going back to school_. The then overt castings of pitying glances at her surroundings whilst their mother tried to hide her hurt infuriated Petunia. It was not like the magicals acted like they even wanted Lily. _Dirty blood_ they called her. In the following years mama's smiles stop reaching her eyes until one day she stopped smiling altogether. Petunia had never forgiven Lily for that. No parent should have to feel they're an embarrassment to their daughter. Their parents' funeral was the last time Petunia spoke to her sister even though Lily had desperately tried to re-establish communication with her elder sister after she had had her first child. Petunia never replied.

Hence the morning following her younger sister's murder, it was a rather startled Petunia Rose Dursley who found her newly orphaned nephew in the early November drizzle on her doorstep. Never mind that it was approaching winter, or the child wasn't wearing the right clothing to be outdoors at night time, or even the fact that little Harry was of toddling age and could easily have woken up confused and toddled away. Mrs Dursley, more than just a bit upset, quickly took the child inside and changed him out of his soaked clothing already making a mental note to book an appointment with a paediatrician to ensure nothing was wrong. The irresponsible person didn't even have the decency to ring the doorbell! Upon finishing her inspection Mrs. Dursley bundled the child up in her own baby son's clothing, fed him, and laid him down next to his cousin to rest. Only when she had at last completed her task did she finally glance at the letter sitting in the basket, though its contents would only be confirmation at this point. _Lily was dead_. Petunia was not a fool. Her sister, no matter how much of a rotten brat she had grown up to be, would never leave her baby lying on a doorstep. Tears prickled at the back of Petunia's eyelids though it had been many a year since Petunia had cried on the topic of her sister. Lily was dead, and her sister's people had promptly displayed their normal lack of common sense by placing Lily's newly orphaned baby on a doorstep. Worse yet, they couldn't even tell Petunia of her sister's passing to her face.

The response to the short handwritten letter (more a note) was probably not what the sender had intended as an extremely red-face Petunia Dursley practically shook with rage. That..that walking pile of expired bones with the ridiculous beard had had the _gall_ to _threaten_ her into keeping the boy! Not only that, but the man had dropped the child off without anything to his name. There wasn't any information for Petunia on how to contact anyone nor financial information nor lawyer contact details nor even the child's birth certificate! She didn't even know if the boy's parents had left a will! And what was this about surviving an unbeatable death spell thrown by some dark tosser with an attitude? Had the child even been seen by one of their kind's doctors before he was delivered like a bottle of milk? It was this look that greeted Vernon Dursley as he walked into his kitchen.

Now Vernon Dursley was a man of principle and duty. He believed that it was one's duty as a man to provide and protect one's family. He worked hard at a local drill company in order to keep his little family of three financially comfortable and happy and even though it sometimes made him uncomfortable, he provided emotional support for his lovely Petunia as well. Hence, Vernon was alarmed to find his usually calm and happy wife so angry. He did not bother to ask what was wrong as Pet normally stuttered terribly when she got truly angry. Spotting the offensive piece of crushed stationery (old fashion parchment of all things), he gingerly took the letter out of his wife's shaking hand and read it himself...and promptly started taking deep breaths in order to calm down. He quickly abandoned that and started a long string of stuttered curses that expanded at least five different languages.

The _nerve_ of this Dumbledore! Who did he think he was threatening them! This was the exact reason why he disliked wizards they honestly thought they could get away with anything. It was a wonder they had any law enforcement at all what with being able to get whatever they wanted with a wave of a wand. A frown creased his forehead as he re-read the letter and looked around for the child spoken about. How were they supposed to afford another child? They could afford their one son yes but the Dursleys had carefully planned out the arrival of their son to coincide with a certain level of financial stability. Vernon was pretty sure money would begin to run short at their financial level if they added another child right now. Easing his considerable girth into a chair he started to give the problem some thought with all of the analytical ability that would one day make him a very valuable employee of Grunnings. He would put out a feeler for a childless couple within their social circle. They never would send the boy to an orphanage, he was Petunia's nephew after all and blood should always be looked after, but they just _could not afford_ another child right now. These people really should have consulted them on this. So he would see about putting the boy with a nice financially stable couple who was also open-minded and would appreciate the joy of a rambunctious little toddler around the house regardless of his magical status. Perhaps a couple located close enough so Pet could visit regularly and the boy could sometimes spend the night here off and on. Yes, that ought to satisfy that blood requirement nonsense. Just how far did these wards extend anyway? The old bastard had given so little information...

Upon seeing his wife calming down he pitched his idea to her with all the smoothness of a true business man, internally pleased to have diffuse such a potential time bomb. Pet really was stubborn on the topic of her sibling and Vernon would hate to see the little tyke grow up under the resentment that would fester if they were to keep him. Especially after that old geezer's threats...

5 hours later Vernon had gone to work, and Petunia dropped off the now wide awake toddlers at the little town's local biddy who welcomed any stray babies that came her way. Harry had asked for his momma before she left. Petunia, loss on how to explain death to a one year old, shove the toddler into Mrs. Walker's arms quickly and hurried away with her eyes stinging for the second time that day.

With several empty bags and boxes in her car, a couple of days clothing and an old sentimental letter from Lily that would allow her to bypass any wards on the property, Petunia set out to Godrics Hollow. She was hoping that the place would at least be devoid of magical people so that she would be able to gather little Harry's things in peace. His clothing of course, toys, picture books. Maybe a few future school books as well since the boy was probably like his parents. Hopefully she would also stumble upon some sort of legal documents that might have a lawyer's name or even Harry's Birth Certificate. Anything that could at least provide the child with some sort of identification and legal and financial protection within their world. Sighing, it occurred to Petunia that she might have to handle the issue of the house as well. Godric Hollow, according to Lily, had a muggle and a magical side with the magical side being well hidden. It was perhaps fortunate that the Potters' house was on the very edge of the muggle side and being a gift from their parents to Lily was registered in her name in the normal world. At the least Petunia planned to pack it away with some minimal yearly maintenance until the boy's majority. Maybe even see if it was possible to remove all magical items from the property and rent it out. That would help with any financial expenses with the boy and the extra could be placed in a bank account. That would give the child a nice little sum come his majority. It might not matter if the boy ends up going to stay in his parents' world but Petunia always believed in having a little money put away for one's child.

Petunia Dursley had nothing against Harry, it was only that she knew her shortcomings well. She feared, perhaps rightly so, that as time went on she might pass the resentment of mother onto son, seeing similarities where there were none and damning the boy to a miserable childhood. This would be rather unfortunate on both Harry, who had yet to commit his mother's crimes, and Petunia, who would prefer never to become such a person. However, shirking her duties as the child's last blood relative also made her uncomfortable and indecisive on whether she should follow Vernon's suggestion.

Three days later, Petunia pulled up in front of the late Potters' two-story house and sighed with relief when she saw no magicals about. Grabbing a few of the bags and clutching Lily's letter tightly in case of any wards, she matched up the walkway with purpose and entered the abandoned home. Looking around she immediately noted very obvious magical items though it was obvious that the magicals had already been by and had tidied up the place a bit. Going up the stairs she noted four doors and went through each one looking for the nursery. Reaching the last door that she rightly assumed led to the nursery, she swung the door in...and promptly had to stuff her shirt in her mouth to muffle her scream. Sliding down the wall Petunia stared with wide eyes streaming with tears and screamed for a solid minute. It was not the singed curtains or the upturned cradle or the black scorch marks on the floor or even the blackened walls caused obviously by fire of some sort that invoked this reaction.

There, lying on the floor not five feet away was the open blanked-eye corpse of Lily Potter nee Evans.

**Dirty blood** they had said.

A **Mudblood**.

James Potter's body was nowhere to be found in the house.

Petunia went home and raised her nephew. 10 years later a black-haired green-eyed boy smiled up at the huge man called Hagrid that came to tell him about magic. And though Dumbledore did not notice it until it was too late, it was a rather different boy than the expected abused child that came to Hogwarts.

* * *

_Petunia had never forgiven them._

* * *

Hey ok chapter 1 done. I encourage you if you haven't already to read Disillusion which is the prelude to this story. This chapter is very important and the circumstances mentioned will greatly affect Harry in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

_**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**_

Disclaimer: I own only the original characters in this story. Every all other characters belong to their rich owners.

_**Chapter Two: **__**The State Of Things (Part 2)**_

* * *

**'**..._And_ bY 990A.D., year of the birth of Britain's first paranormal institution, _cruelty_ had finally blessed mankind. With a ferocity rarely even seen within the animal kingdom, humanity clawed and gouged its ownself apart ignoring remorse, mercy or the calls for peace. Many a magical fled, going even deeper into hiding than previously attempted, and a new hunting game arose among the Righteous as they tracked down the demon worshippers and tore away and slaughtered even the helpless babes at their mother's breast. By 1023A.D., Hogwarts's class attendance had dropped by over 33% and the school founders deemed it foolhardy to remain in a viking-infested England. Bathed in shadows one cloud-filled night, they crept away from their small rundown schoolhouse in London, to a miniscule farmhouse located in isolated Ireland.

By 1053A.D., those without paranormal abilities begun to source out the magicals various modes of accessing their God-cursed sorcery. Suspected persons could expect a sudden breaking and entering of their homes in the middle of the night in order to catch them off guard and without possession of their focus. Magicals took to chanting their foci invisible and sleeping with them either underneath their pillows or on their person.

In 1065A.D., Hunters received word that a 'devil-worshipping' school had apparently sprung up within Britain when an excited and exceedingly curious young girl in England asked her mother about the nice Lady, of some obvious breeding and stature, who had invited her to a magical school called Hogwarts. Her questions cost her her life. Rowena Ravenclaw, a Hogwarts founder, was inconsolable at the news.

By 1078A.D., muggles (as magicals had begun to call non-magicals) were actively torturing their own offsprings into becoming both unwilling spies and subsequent guides to other classmates' homes. Hogwarts took another 10% blow to their student population and within a year seven old magical lines went extinct. Panicked, Hogwarts was yet again relocated from the moors of Ireland to a newly built obnoxiously grandiose Mansion in Scotland that would later evolved into an even more incredible castle. A new field called Warding was created and Hogwarts founders layered exorbitantly their new warding schemes into every brick in their new home. With the close calls experienced by several magical families, many began to argue against the inclusion of children of muggle heritage into the school or even the magical community. Some, including the Hogwarts founder Salazar Slytherin, cited the several severe security breaches occurring whilst opponents, including founder Godric Gryffindor, pointed out that you cannot punish the many for the few. The subject became a source of contention within the magical community and ignited several increasingly heated arguments between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

...And then in 1082A.D., _Hogwarts was attacked_.

Although the newly crafted wards held up to the invasion, new students and visiting children caught outside those wards were dragged into the nearby forest, stripped naked and had the word_ Demon_ carved with a sharp stone on their foreheads before being subsequently hanged. Thirteen magical children were lost that day, among them was Slytherin's nine year old son.

The consequent spectacular argument between a grief-filled Slytherin and a stubborn Gryffindor who insisted that _he was right_ sparked an awe-inspiring duel between the two founders and resulted in Salazar leaving the very next day never to return.

By the time Tom Riddle had graced Wizarding Britain with his presence, relations between muggleborns and 'purebloods' were tense at the least and violent at the worse. Many were still..._wary_ of inviting those of non-magical bloodlines within their midst, and those coming from the other side did not truly understand the level of persecution magicals had experienced nor the extreme need for secrecy. They wanted to tell everyone about magic, their friends, their family, their neighbours, _everyone_. It has always been difficult to impose on an eleven year old the absolute need for an oath of silence when they lived in a society that encouraged children to either mingle and share or otherwise experience societal rejection. Many muggleborns, unable to share anything about their school or new society, suffered huge strains that led to fractured relationships between parent and child, or any friends that might have existed before magic school. In truth, after a while of being within a wizarding prejudice society, muggleborns grew to resent this absolute break from the society of their childhood. They were, and rightly so, upset that the beautiful fantasy painted for them on receiving their school letters were just that. Most, unable to find gainful employment in the wizarding world, shuffled on back to their muggle society, uneducated, culturally lost and resentful of the wizarding world for their lost years. There was nowhere in Europe that this situation was worse than in Britain.

Whilst magical society have clearly forgotten most of the reasons they were even wary of muggleborns, and the history of Hogwarts has been twisted beyond almost all recognition, our parents continue to teach their learned behaviour to their children. Muggleborns are viewed as 'lesser' in almost the entire of European Magical Nations, and with suspicion, hostility and outright rejection dogging their every step, the muggleborns receive the message loud and clear that _'You are not one of us_'. This kind of discrimination has even spread to any that is not of ancient magical bloodlines or 'purebloods', though the only group treated worse than muggleborns are those with non-human blood in their veins.

It is noteworthy that over the years since Hogwarts founding, magic has been reduced to lazy murmurs of the days of Merlin. Many magicals have taken the rejection of muggle borns to the extreme point of rejecting anything remotely non-magical, regardless of the sheer amount of benefits to be gained from it. New research techniques were ignored, new inventions scoffed at and even improved hygienic practices took centuries to be implemented. Anything, whether it be idea or item that was non-magical in origin received almost universal instant rejection. In this vein, many muggleborns' suggestions of improvement and change were looked upon with contempt, an incapability to mesh into magical society, and a condescending attitude to a magical's traditions and way of life. It is sad to note that far from just ensuring complete safety, The Statute of Secrecy had the most unpleasant side-effect of stunting magical society's growth. Without the need to look over their shoulders, wizards and witches ignored their non-magical neighbours and begun to luxuriate in their own illusions of superiority over every other living creature on the planet, be they magical or muggle, human or non-human. It would take a minor miracle, or perhaps a world wizarding war, to remove the cancer called prejudice which is now so deeply rooted within the superego of the average magical.**'**

-**Julius .E. Malfoy (1979), '**_**The Lost Book of Hogwarts A History**_**' (**_**page 34 - 35**_**).**

* * *

Even before he had stepped foot in Hogwarts, he had already felt the sting of extreme wizarding prejudice. That Lupin brat, the mudblood slut's son whom a werewolf, smelling the taint in his blood, had bestowed upon him his own curse. Being a half-blood and a new werewolf with a mudblood mother had made life exceedingly unpleasant both at home and in his little community. He survived, but without friends or a loving family Remus Lupin had grown up believing himself worth less than nothing.

The first time The Professor saw Lupin, he was a scared, skinny little brat with oversized clothing and huge eyes. Five boys surrounded him partaking in the absolutely riveting sport of bullying, malicious smiles planted firmly on their faces. He watched as the boy curled in a ball trying to minimize the amount of damage dealt to him then turned to walk away. This was not his country. He wasn't dealing with this shit.

The next time he saw Remus Lupin he was just exiting a grocery store. He sported at least a dozen cuts and bruises on his arms and legs, his clothes were torn and dirty, and there was a suspicious bruise around his neck. He briefly wondered why with this world's healing abilities that no one had ensured the boy got medical treatment. One of the child's bags fell and feeling generous and a bit sympathetic he helped him pick up the groceries, casually slipping a slim book within the shocked boy's bag. He did not expect the child to even understand what was written but at some point the boy would learn to read and perhaps utilize the textbook to better aid himself.

The third time he saw Remus Lupin he was tearing apart the bullies surrounding him with a ferocity that belied the calm look of concentration on his face. He was slow, his footwork poor, and more times than not he over-extended his punches. If his tormentors had been anybody but schoolyard thugs he would have been trashed within an inch of his life. Considering it had only been a week and he hadn't even expected the child to even be able to read, this was very good results indeed. At the end of it all the boy stepped over the bullies, picked up his dusty books, and with a look of concentration banished the dirt and tears from his clothing though the bruises remained. Casually strolling away, Remus remained unaware that his rather incredible feat had been witnessed by a suddenly keenly interested individual. That was _not_ untrained magic.

The fourth time The Professor came across Remus J. Lupin he was standing over the freshly dug graves of two of his best friends, grief warring with confusion as to why only one headstone existed. The meeting was no accident.

"I'm sorry for your lost."

Closing his eyes in pain the werewolf ignored the man standing behind him as he tried to pull himself together. His self-made family were in ruins; three best friends dead, and one other that might as well be dead as far as he was concerned. He couldn't even get close to his little godson because of that bastard's wards. Remus hand tightened into a fist. He had practically riddled the old geezer with letters before he finally got a reply via phoenix. Oh it was politely written but Remus could read between the lines loud and clear. _Dark creature _indeed. What was the point of suppressing so many of his werewolf traits if no one saw beyond the wolf anyway? Fisting his hand so hard his nails drew blood, Remus swallowed the scream that threatened to leave his throat as his grief was suddenly replaced with intense anger. He had just lost his entire family and that...man...had the...gall...damnit he wanted his godson! He would never hurt him! He wanted his bright-eyed one tooth toddling terror of a godson so he could take the two of them the hell away from this crazy country that was already bestowing the name 'The Boy Who Lived' on him. Then again, perhaps Dumbledore knew him well enough to know that was exactly what Remus intended to do. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself into the calm that had helped him keep his head in dire circumstances more often than he cared to think about.

"You sure you want me to apprentice to you?"

The Professor was not surprise by the sudden question. He had been prepared to calmly wait out the wizard.

"Yes."

Looking up to the sky Remus sighed.

"Do you know _what_ I am?"

The Professor did not miss the bitterness in the question.

"You are a wizard."

"I am a half-blood."

"You are still a wizard."

"I am a werewolf."

"Irrelevant."

With a sudden resurgence of his anger, Remus wheeled around with superhuman speed to face the fool and then _attacked_. It was the first time in many a year that he did not care to hide his werewolf traits nor even for the consequences of his actions. _Irrelevant_? Such _arrogance_. Never in his life had he felt such blinding anger.

The Professor allowed Remus to get close before faster than Remus could see he casually reached out to break both his arms and his right leg then flung him over his head without even tapping in any of his actual strength. The toss resulted in Remus hitting the tree behind The Professor with loud cracking sounds that normally accompanied having bones broken. Wheezing and in pain, Remus slowly looked up in shock through the blood now freely running down his face and into his eye. The Professor looked like he hadn't even moved. His expression had yet to change.

"Yes rather irrelevant actually. If just being a werewolf enables you to be able to pick a fight and win Remus-san then I deserve to lose and suffer whatever consequences come my way." Giving him a kind smile he continued.

"I think though that you might benefit from an environment more conducive to learning and a far more well-rounded education than you have thus far received in Britain. I have quite a few requirements and very high standards you need to fulfil before I deem you a Battle Mage."

He narrowed his eyes at him, "You will find this apprenticeship the hardest thing you have ever done Remus-san. I believe I should be asking you if _you_ are sure? I can give you the tools that will allow you to protect those you deem precious to you, will make you even more powerful than this dark lord that was just vanquished. I can teach you to will power in ways that will make your enemies tremble at your name. I can do all of this Remus-san, but if you do not want this, cannot taste this and want this even in your sleep then you will only be average regardless of all that you learn. _You can be great_ Remus Lupin _but_," he suddenly stared at him hard, power glowing in those dark eyes, "_do you want it_?"

Coughing harshly Remus stared at the ground in silence as he struggled to breathe without pain. It felt like his ribs were broken. In one dimension a grief-filled Remus rejects the offer out of fear of becoming like the beast within him. He would eventually try again to gain access to his godson, fail, and leave the country to wonder muggle Europe depressed and reliant on job hopping. In that world he would never touch any of his potential. In that world Remus Lupin would become only a shadow of his former self. Several minutes passed before Remus looked up and The Professor noted that for the first time since he had met this quiet yet talented brat, that it was both beings that stared out of that pair of cold brown-yellow eyes.

"Yes."

And with that Remus disappeared from Britain for the next twelve years.

* * *

New Blood International Academy (attendance was part of The Professor's requirements) was an eye-opener for Remus. In truth, for the first three years it was a seriously humiliating experience. Originally signed in for the Mundane Martial Arts, Battle Magics and Elemental Battle Manipulation degree, Remus found himself struggling for the first time in his life to even keep up with the material and being severely behind his peers. After the first week his Battle Strategics teacher took him aside and suggested putting the degree on hold and doing the advance level track first, perhaps even doing a few classes at the local primary school in order to catch up. Having to sit in classes with students ten years your junior at a primary school of all things made the werewolf thankful that there was no one he knew living on this island. For Remus, a known genius at Hogwarts, it was a rather humbling experience.

For five years he worked hard in his primary and advance lessons coming to love the odd hour of classes, the unique subjects offered and his lecturers encouragement of heated discussions in class. The library alone was worth attending the school and reading **'**_The Lost Book of Hogwarts A History_' was very enlightening. The course load and pace was tiring, especially put on top of The Professor's own teachings, but for the first time in his life Remus felt challenged.

In his second year he met his first Were Draug (the name for a born werewolf) who took it upon himself to educate him on being a werewolf. Jeff Anderson had lived his entire life on Ivor Lonnath (Crystal Haven) and therefore was frequently confused by his new friend's shame in his werewolf status. He asked around and got a private tutor versed in were combat, politics and social norms for Remus since he seemed completely lost about...well everything really. It's true that New Blood taught the basics in Magical Customs and Traditions class but it was the Magical Clan's responsibility to provide a tutor for what the school didn't teach. Remus though seemed woefully lost when asked what clan he belonged to and it was an amused Professor who finally answered Jeff that Britain didn't have Magical Clans but only magical houses. Laughingly, The Professor thought to explain to his confused apprentice and his equally confused friend.

"Magical Clans are rare in Western Europe Remus-kun, though they are the norm everywhere else. A Clan actually incorporates several magical houses, so for example three houses could belong to three different countries but be part of the same Clan. A Magical Clan is responsible for the well being of all their members. Whilst clothing, housing and such are normally left to a magical house, the Clan could step in if need be. The Clan is also responsible for ensuring every member was educated about every magical aspect of themselves. The Head determines set Clan knowledge that every member must be taught regardless of location, language, race or blood status. If a member is unable to learn the magical aspects he/she is excused from that section of Clan knowledge but must learn everything else. Even persons marrying into the Clan are given tutors in any unknown aspects of Clan knowledge.

Magical Clans also do incorporate mundane families with magical members. When unattached new bloods arrive on Ivor Lonnath for instance, Clan scouts take note of those they find impressive and can request and receive from the school: class scores, power level, achievements and the like. This procedure holds true for most Magical schools not located in Europe. Joining a Clan is not mandatory however, being part of one allows you entry to certain aspects of Magical society you would otherwise be unable to access. At the end of their attendance the majority of new bloods and their families will be invited to a meeting to talk about membership by at least one of the Clans. If they accept then they, their family and any other magical child to show up within their immediate family will be incorporated into one of the Clan's magical houses. This is the real reason why Magical Clans are rare in Europe, where prejudice is the bread and butter of the people. It is perhaps a great pity since Magical Clan magic is so powerful that magicals and even non-magicals born into the clan tend to develop some sort of unique magical ability."

"Like me!" Jeff interrupted proudly. "I'm the first Were Draug of my house and the third in Clan Animaniacs. Shocked my parents I did when I transformed on a full moon when I was three."

After the explanation Remus got a strange look on his face before giving his teacher a rather furious glare.

"Wait! You mean to tell me you _knew_ people would be looking at my grades and didn't tell me! Wait wait! Come back here!"

The Professor just grinned and whistling gaily, calmly walked away from his suddenly homicidal student...

* * *

The years went by and at the end of nine years of study at New Blood, Remus could honestly say he was a different person. He no longer needed a wand to do magic and yet he'd never felt better or more powerful in his life. He loved everything about the school and the island and its inhabitants who didn't bat an eye at hearing he was a werewolf. He loved his modern apartment with it's modern appliances complements of MagiTech. He couldn't believe he once thought talking through a fireplace a good idea. He had decided to do three degrees at the same time to meet New Blood's ten-year deadline, the original degree he had been signed up for and Runecrafting and Fuuinjutsu, a double degree programme. Two master degrees had been part of the requirements for a Battle Mage Degree as outlined by his contract, but Remus had fallen in love with fuuinjutsu during his advance class and he desperately wanted to go further. It had been _HARD_ making it work especially because The Professor had taken his training up to a new level and he was so damn tired everyday but he was happy. After graduation he had been shocked to be approached by _seven_ Clans though two in particular caught his attention: Clan Nara and Clan Animaniacs.

Clan Animaniacs was a Clan specializing in animal magical abilities. Every member born into the Clan, whether magical or non-magical had at least one animagus form. Remus had been pretty shocked when he heard that. In addition to that the Clan also spouted large amounts of Metamorphmagi and had strong spiritual ties with Spirit Animals, especially the coyote. Remus had a strong suspicion though that the invite from Animaniacs was due more to Jeff's friendship than his overwhelming abilities as a were.

It was the offer from Clan Nara though that had shocked him to the core. Clan Nara was a Clan specializing in the use of the mind. Every single member, including those who marry into the Clan, was a certifiable genius. Every single member could use mind magics at a level that was downright scary. In addition to that the Clan was also known for one of the greatest intelligence networks in the world. They had people _everywhere_, in every walk of life. What on earth they wanted with him? He worked hard yes but he was no genius (he couldn't even lie to himself after New Blood) nor did he have contacts who could be of use to such a Clan. He was not sure he should accept since he really had nothing to offer.

Remus fell in love with the Nara Building he was taken to the moment he stepped through the door. The floor was some sort of clear crystal, as were the walls and roof and stairs and...books! Scrolls! EVERYWHERE! The crystal was some sort of casing and it was like a house made of books and scrolls and Remus was in absolute heaven. Shikaku Nara watched the glassy-eyed man with the large loopy smile hug the staircase in absolute _amusement_. Well then. His information on Lupin certainly seem to be right. The man would fit right in though he had to wonder if Lupin wouldn't have a heart attack if he ever saw headquarters. This was only a small information satellite after all and didn't even have any computers…

* * *

Remus next three years were split between personal training with The Professor and Clan training. Both pushed him to his limits and beyond. The Professor had acquired a training partner for him, some scarecrow looking man with only one lazy-looking eye uncovered, and an even lazier voice. Apparently he had been given the long-term mission of getting Remus to his own level in two years.

_The scarecrow took _great joy_ in beating the shit out of him at every available opportunity._

Remus learnt very quickly to utilize every single thing he had been taught and took to carrying pointy objects to bed since the man had the terrible habit of ambushing him in his sleep. He haunted the various Nara libraries on the island at all hours looking for some technique that could give him an advantage. He brewed poison antidotes whenever he got the time so he won't die from the scarecrow's poisoned weapons or poison in his food. He actually taught himself to sew just so he could create his own clothes, using acromantula silk thread dyed in sealing ink or blood to carefully sew in seals and runes of all kinds in the disguise of clothing designs. Damn it it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

The first time the scarecrow saw his new clothes his eye widen and he put away his little orange book. Unfortunately, he uncovered his other eye and Remus still had his...posterior...handed to him in a basket. Damn.

As for Clan training well, Remus could honestly say he passed Snape's mind abilities within six months. The Nara Clan was remarkable and his tutor, whilst demanding, was very patient. He was also given espionage training, a few taijutsu scrolls and additional magical attacks to complement his battle mage training. Oh and also a debit card for an account with a monthly allowance though that one came from his new magical house, The Spellmans. He really loved his life.

Which is why when he walked into his flat to find a lounging, smirking Shikaku casually stroking a red phoenix with a rolled up parchment bearing his name, he immediately started to scowl.

* * *

Reviews are welcomed :)


	3. Chapter 3

_**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**_

Disclaimer: I own only the original characters in this story. Every all other characters belong to their rich owners.

_**Chapter Three:**_

_**Solutions: Part 1**_

* * *

When Petunia was eight she had a dog, a beautiful female red setter by the name of Lucky. She had been the runt of her litter and papa's boss was poised to killing the useless thing when papa had offered to take her off his hands. Ironically, Lucky had ended up taller than her brothers and sisters, stopping at a respectable 67cm. Lucky was the nicest, most patient, most loyal animal in the whole town. Every morning Lucky refused to stay home and would accompany Petunia's mother, her mistress and her mistress's little sister Lily to school. Every afternoon Lucky would return to lie at the gates and await her mistresses to accompany them back home. No one could persuade Lucky that her protection of her mistresses were unnecessary. Petunia loved that dog with all of her little eight-year-old heart.

One morning, when Petunia was all of eight-and-three-quarters, the family opened their door to find Lucky covered in blood, cuts and bites. A stray dog had wandered onto the Evans' porch and Lucky had viciously chased it away, coming from the fight battered but victorious. The family could not afford a vet for their beloved pet and mama did her best to clean and treat the wounds, but after that day Lucky was never the same. She became moody, jumpy, very easily angered, even snapping at Petunia one time, nearly biting the little girl's hand. Six weeks after the fight and it was obvious that Lucky was very sick. She could barely eat and had lost a tremendous amount of weight. She looked tired all the time and started walking very slowly and at times even had problems standing upright. Her eyes had a glazed look to it and her nose, once cold and wet, had gotten very dry and even had cracks on it. Petunia often felt like crying whenever she saw Lucky. Mama did the best she could but it was obvious nothing she did worked. Recently the dog had taken to sleeping in corners or under the couch and would even get aggressive whenever mama came near.

The day Petunia turned nine, mama decided to celebrate a little and scraped a few shillings together. Papa had already gone to work and mama, telling Petunia to watch her sister for a few minutes, placed her weather beaten coat and hat on and struggled out through the snow to the little baker's shop on the corner. Leaving a yawning Lily, Petunia had gone to get breakfast ready, excitement obvious in every move she made. It had been only five minutes. Just five minutes of not watching a little sister who had a nasty habit of always finding herself in trouble. Petunia heard Lucky's loud yelp and knew her sister, not watching where she was going, had once again stepped on the poor dog's tail. As was usual with these instances, Petunia was already forming a mental scolding to unleash on the five year old when menacing growls stopped her cold. Rushing into the living room Petunia had enough time to glimpse the almost crazed eyes of the animal before her dog, her beloved pet rushed from its place and leaped for her sister's throat. Lily screamed and everything was moving so fast; Petunia didn't think, she couldn't think. Something in her rose up and she instinctively reached out to Lucky and _pulled_. Blood splattered across the floor and walls and the dog dropped in mid-jump hitting the floor with a loud _thump_. In the sudden deafening silence Petunia just stared at the blood everywhere, even on the furniture and her sister, and dropped in a dead faint.

When she woke up mama was seated by her bedside, red-eyed and looking terribly worried. At first Petunia did not remember what had happened, but then the memories came back and the nine year old found herself retching into a waste basket on the old wooden floor. Mama held the shaking and crying nine year old, gently holding her hair out of the way and murmuring comforting things. Finally, the child stopped heaving and mama helped her weakened daughter back into bed where she soon enough fell into an uneasy sleep.

Getting up Mrs. Evans headed to the closet where they kept the cleaning supplies and stood in the doorway to stare once again at her blood-splattered living room. Her husband had already taken Lucky to be buried or the dog would still be lying there. Suddenly feeling very weak, the woman leaned against the wall and slowly closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she relived the nightmare of opening her front door to the house. Never had such terror gripped her as when she returned home to find blood _everywher_e, her elder daughter lying unmoving on the ground with a crying Lily shaking her and a dead dog nearby. For a moment she had flashed back to a similar scene but that was her mother lying on the ground and that was her sister that was crying. Never in her life had she felt such fear upon walking on such a scene for the second time in her life and thank God _Thank God_ that her children were alive. That she did not come home to face her worst fear. That her little Petunia did whatever she had done. That she wasn't going to bury her younger child like she had had to bury her brutalized mother. Taking out the cleaning supplies, Mrs Evans hummed to herself trying futilely to stop the violent trembling of her limbs.

"_**Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,**_

_**That saved a wretch like me.**_

_**I once was lost but now am found,**_

_**Was blind, but now I see.**_"

The song Amazing Grace echoed quietly through the room as she diligently scrubbed at all the blood until her hands were blistered. From her room, just a little way off from the living room, lay a little blond-haired girl with eyes wide open as she hummed along with her mother, tears silently sliding out the corner of her eyes.

...

When Lily got her Hogwarts letter papa was not the only person who was relieved there was an explanation. True Petunia did not have all the little strange mishaps Lily did but what other explanation was there than their elder daughter was a witch as well? So it was with no little surprise that the family met the explanation that Petunia was as muggle as her parents. Instinctively knowing to say nothing of the event to the Hogwarts representative, the Evans hid their confusion behind faked enthusiasm and calm smiles. The next morning, a determined Petunia mailed a letter to the Hogwarts headmaster requesting a place at Hogwarts though she did not say why she was so sure she was magical. She did not know why but both she and her parents were very hesitant in informing anyone who didn't already know of what happened. Papa had not even found any wounds on Lucky, as if the blood had been ripped out of the dog's very pores. Even Lily, who had by now completely forgotten that defining event, was not told. The rejection letter Petunia had received the next day infuriated her. It was worded kindly true, but there was a rather condescending undertone that had Petunia both gritting her teeth and blinking in complete utter confusion, because, _because_...

If she was not a witch then... _what_ was she?

* * *

The first thing Remus Lupin did upon arrival in merry ol England was adjust the wards at Privet Drive. He didn't show himself to Harry (the old man had a nasty habit of dipping into his students' minds), but he refuse to maintain the status quo of inaccessibility he was under from his own godson. Besides, there was a murderer after the lad so preventing Remus access was ridiculous. Not that anyone would realise Remus had done anything to the wards anyway. Magical Britain had long lost the ability to adjust spells or to even realise when their spells had been tampered with. In truth, each generation found itself re-learning the same spell repertoire as the previous without even the slightest variation or addition. It was sad really, yet rather fitting of a society that refused change.

The thirty-three year old werewolf (with great distaste) had re-don the mask of his former self realising, quite rightly, the level of underestimation that came with it. However, if anyone could see underneath the brown patched shirt he wore they would be rather surprised. Occupying the upper right-hand corner of his back was a beautiful tattoo of a white fallow deer against a luscious green scenery. Remus was very proud of that tattoo as it marked the end of his Clan training and consequential mastery of set Clan knowledge. That it hid a set of seals and runes that both maintained the illusion of a poor physique, and generated an aura of submissiveness, and overall amicability was just an added bonus. The seals and runes underneath only incorporated one of the key lessons from his espionage training: let people see what they expected to see rather than what was actually there.

What was indeed troublesome however, was Dumbledore's requirement to take the wolfsbane potion. This potion worked by separating the wolf from the human and locking it away. This enraged the wolf part making the re-emerging with the human part the next morning extremely painful. Each following transformation that the Were made use of wolfsbane became more and more painful. However, documented studies of the potion had concluded that missing even one dose of the potion resulted in a completely feral werewolf with no ability to separate friend or pack from foe. It was almost as if the potion was addictive. A few of the patients after long-term usage of the potion even experienced a split in personality between man and wolf. And of course there was the fact that it was created by a man who had stated outrightly that he hated werewolves. It was a banned substance in most countries outside of Europe.

Dumbledore wanted him to take it. It was a requirement to teach at a school Remus had no desire to teach at so he could finally meet his godson and protect Harry from his former best friend. Remus had to hand it to Dumbledore, he really knew how to piss people off.

Then Harry's year three happened. Remus should have really just listened to his instincts.

* * *

Harry Potter sighed as he stared tiredly at the new summer timetable his aunt had at some point before his arrival taped to his wall. Aunt Petunia, as usual, had had a stack of muggle textbooks waiting for him this summer. He was allowed one week to himself before muggle summer school bootcamp, Petunia-style, was unleashed. Harry didn't bother complain since the complaining and attempted reasoning for the last two summers had only made his aunt angrily pursed her lips tightly and Harry was made to cram a year's worth of material in one summer anyway. Uncle Vernon would not interfere (the man had the survival instincts of a grey wolf) and had long since left the boys educational decisions to his relentless wife.

Aunt Petunia had not wanted Harry to go to Hogwarts. The realisation had hurt Harry after Hagrid had informed him he was magical. Harry and Petunia might not have been as close as her nephew secretly wished, but Harry had always known Aunt Petunia to act in his best interest. That she would reject such a huge aspect of himself had shocked and hurt him terribly, and had damaged some of the trust that existed between him and his relatives. The time after Hagrid's reveal but before Hogwarts had been filled with tension between the family. Uncle Vernon stayed out later and later most nights. Dudley, recovering from his surgery, barely spoke to him though Harry had caught his cousin giving him wary glances laced with fear that made Harry extremely uncomfortable. He couldn't help feeling guilty, though the only reason his cousin had gotten that tail was because he tried to eat Harry's cake before Harry himself. Dudley had always had an unhealthy love of sweets and Aunt Petunia did regular unannounced searches of his room looking for hidden stashes.

The cousins had had a rough ride those early years before they had settled down into a somewhat amicable relationship. Dudley had clearly resented having to share his parents, and Harry was so _unusual_, even as a toddler, that he couldn't help but receive a lot of attention from the adult Dursleys. Unbeknownst to the adults, Dudley had started picking on his smaller cousin, even going so far as to threaten any children interested in becoming friends with 'the freak'. It was the day that Aunt Petunia found out about the bullying, and then had tanned Dudley's behind for starting some stupid game call Harry Hunting, that the cousins finally called a truce. Since then Dudley had settled down into maybe not a best friend but still someone Harry felt comfortable calling a friend. Finally, after two weeks of awkward conversations and tense silences, Harry gathered his courage and quietly apologized to his cousin, stating he thought Hagrid had gone overboard and that the giant had probably just forgotten to take off the tail before leaving. His cousin had just pursed his lips in a move very reminiscent of his mother before glaring at his cousin for a good five minutes. Harry fidgeted, trying not to meet Dudley's eyes and flushing horribly.

"That Wizarding World of yours had better have very good candy!" his cousin declared at last with solemn seriousness. The two then stared at each other in the quiet following Dudley's demand before subsequently breaking down into "manly" giggles. And all was right between the cousins again.

Harry wished it had been that easy with Aunt Petunia. His aunt..._Aunt Petunia won't even look at him_. She did not speak nor interact nor acknowledge Harry in anyway. It was like he wasn't there. He had seen her do this with Uncle Vernon or with Dudley on the occasion either had displeased her greatly but this was the first time Harry was experiencing it for himself. By the time the morning came to leave for Hogwarts Harry was almost ready to tell his aunt he won't go just so she could stop ignoring him. It was a terrible feeling to be treated as invisible. But before Harry even gave it some thought, Uncle Vernon had shuffled him and his things into the car and off they had gone leaving a madly waving Dudley behind. It had been difficult to ignore the sharp pain in his heart when he realised that Aunt Petunia hadn't even bothered to get out of bed.

Thankfully, after watching him very closely for a week upon his return from first year, his aunt had been back to her old self. Harry wasn't sure what that was about, or how he would have dealt with things if she had still been treating him as Mr. Invisible, but he was not sure this time he would have put a mysterious magical world above his relatives' disapproval. After the exhilarating feeling of actually going to a world spoken of only in fairytales had died down, Harry had found the Wizarding World a bit...disappointing. For one thing there wasn't much to it. Taking in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts that was it. There weren't many games or activities either and Harry couldn't count the amount of times he was just plain bored. Maybe that had been why he was so quick to get into all of these adventures? There just didn't seem to be anything else to do but that year's adventure, quidditch, the occasional chess game and studying. He suppose he could study but Harry was in the top five of his year without even trying. This was despite being sabotaged in potions half the time and being hated by that teacher.

Truthfully Harry found Aunt Petunia's summer study nightmares to be more challenging. He really didn't understand Hermione's maniac behaviour towards studying, it wasn't as if the school work was hard or heavy. Though he suspected that with Hermione it might be a similar problem to his own of not feeling challenged enough. There were many times this year that Harry had glanced at his female best friend in class to find her mask of perfect student slipping enough to show a rather bored expression. Oh you had to know her very well to see it, but Harry had been noticing Hermione's mask slipping more and more over the years. He could understand. Instead of becoming increasingly difficult, Harry found the schoolwork becoming easier and easier. As if to counteract this issue, Hogwarts teachers piled more work on the students. He couldn't understand how that was suppose to solve things. Most of the time he felt like a form five secondary schooler being given a huge amount of primary school work. It did not make the work harder only more tedious and boring. If he felt this way he couldn't even begin to imagine how Hermione felt.

Hermione was one of those rare geniuses that came once every six generations or so. The type that governments told schools to be on the look out for and extremely top universities scouted in order to tempt them into attending their schools. If she had remained in the Muggle World Harry had no doubt that Hermione would be doing university work right now whilst her parents dealt with offers from just about everyone who was anyone. Unfortunately for her, it seems that it was rare to find a true genius in the Wizarding World. For all that there was a house of the smart, it was very obvious to Harry that Hogwarts' teachers had no idea how to handle a genius. None offered Hermione extra work (at least more difficult work even), or thought of offering her to skip a year or two and some, like Snape, even sneered at her for her advance knowledge. They allowed the students to call her names, heck Snape, _a teacher_, calls her a know-it-all! In class! They basically let her brain go to waste which Harry thought secretly was kinda sad. They left her to be bored and if there was one thing geniuses hated it was being _bored_. That and stupid people. Unfortunately for Hermione, Hogwarts provided a huge quantity of both.

Breaking out of his contemplation on Hermione, Harry's mind wandered to the letter he had received at the end of third year. Shockingly arriving by courier instead of by owl, Harry had received a letter to attend _another_ magical school called New Blood International Academy. The school had stated in a clean completely understandable way what it was about, why he received a letter at this time and the courses available. Harry had been suitably impressed. New Blood's acceptance letter alone put Hogwarts' letter to shame and the courses offered had shocked Harry to his core. Wasn't Hogwarts a 'premiere' magical school? They didn't even have three-quarter of the courses New Blood offered! What had interest Harry however, was Aunt Petunia's reaction.

Petunia Dursley had been just as surprised as Harry was. She read both the letter and the booklet that came with the breakdown of what was learnt in each subject and couldn't help but wonder if Lily had ever received a similar letter but had the memory erased. If she had received one then she must have never shown their parents. The little fool probably instantly declined afraid to leave her little friends. Petunia couldn't imagine her parents turning down this kind of school, especially since scholarships were available and Lily had been an A student before she went to Hogwarts and an O student throughout her years there. The mere fact that this school offered both normal and magical subjects, and that _parents could visit whenever they liked_ would have greatly relieved their parents who felt frightened of the increasing distance that each year brought on with their youngest. Upon viewing what was taught in the Magical Ethics course, Petunia felt that this class alone would be worth the trouble of sending the boy. She had always felt that Wizards were too quick to take out their wands when angered or when things didn't go their way. Even a seventeen year old Lily once, in the heat of an argument, had pulled her wand on her own mother. The instant horror that had crossed her sister's face when she realised what she had just done had let her family know she had never intended the action. However, Petunia had privately always thought pulling a wand on a person should never have become so natural that it was automatic. Harry would do well to learn this.

Harry went back to Hogwarts for his fourth year seriously contemplating going to a different school. He had been unable to ask Hermione what she thought or whether she too received a letter. He had been unable to ask his godfather, official and unofficial whether they had heard of New Blood International Academy. He had to admit the security spell on the letter was incredible. He couldn't even write any of the magical courses listed down! Then his name had came out of the goblet and Harry was almost certain at the end of the year that if he could get away with it he wasn't coming back. He had until the 31st of May if he wanted a 'taste' of the school during the summer and 31st August if he was confident on starting school straight away.

So here he sat on the first day of summer hols after fourth year staring at his summer timetable and gathering his courage to speak to his aunt. He wasn't sure he could get away with leaving Hogwarts. He was the Boy Who Lived and Voldemort had just regained his body. Dumbledore was politically powerful and might not take kindly to losing his direct control over his golden boy. Harry didn't even want to think about the Ministry of Magic. The Minister might be a moron but Harry couldn't see him letting the Boy Who Lived leave Hogwarts to attend a non-British magical school that actually taught muggle subjects! Yet here Harry was contemplating how he could convince his relatives that he wanted to transfer. Taking a deep breath he got up and went downstairs to find his aunt reading one of her homemaker magazines and his uncle eating a sandwich.

"Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon?" the boy called nervously. The two looked up to see their nephew with an anxious look on his face.

"Yes" replied Petunia whilst placing her magazine on the table. Vernon didn't even bother to answer, just raising his right eyebrow in curiosity. The boy looked like he was going to throw up!

"Um...if I said that I didn't want to go to Hogwarts anymore would that be ok?"

Stunned looks met this question. Recovering first, Vernon narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"What are you up to child? You practically skipped in happiness filled with sparkles and unicorn ponies when you were told you were going to that crackpot school. What's with this sudden change of heart?"

Meeting his uncle's and aunt's eyes Harry steeled himself.

"I want to go to another school." Another silence met this statement.

Crossing her legs and leaning back casually in her chair, Petunia Dursley stared at her nephew with a sharp calculating eye. Slowly, very slowly, a lazy smirk made it's way on her face. Harry thought she looked a bit like a shark that had just smelt blood.

"Defying Albus Dumbledore" she said in a low amused voice. "What's brought this on?"

Hesitating slightly Harry launched into telling his Hogwarts experience year one to four. He kept his eyes on the kitchen cabinet incase he lost his nerves especially when he got to the graveyard. At the end of his oral autobiography, Petunia was so white that the veins in her neck stood out and Vernon was completely purple. Suddenly the man stood up from his chair, the sudden movement done with such force that the piece of furniture fell breaking off one of it's legs. Slamming his hand on the table he addressed his wife in a low furious voice.

"I told you that man is a scam artist! I told you! Pretending to be a headmaster! If he was a real Headmaster he would be dismissed already! No there's something more going on here Pet! That man doesn't have good intentions. You saw the letters he keep on sending us and the letter he left with the boy! That man wrote that letter in order for us to resent the child! He has some grand plan for him! I refuse to believe that man doesn't know what's going on in that school! It's impossible for a school boy to be able to figure these things out or always stumble onto these things but the headmaster of the school never thought of it or ever encountered anything in his rounds. That's point blank ridiculous!"

Harry gaped at his uncle. Well. He didn't expect that reaction. Harry honestly had never seen his uncle so upset. Now that he thought of it though Uncle Vernon had a point. It was said that Dumbledore had a sixth sense when it came to dark magic and seemed to know everything that went on in Hogwarts so how come he never knew about Voldemort being at the back of Quirrell's head? Especially when he sat by the man in the staff room, or his office or even during meals. How come he didn't suspect anything? The man had a phoenix why wouldn't it alert it's master that there was dark magic clinging behind Quirrell's head? Then there was the diary. How did Fawkins know to bring the hat at that moment? Surely the phoenix didn't pop in with Hogwarts artifacts for any who was in trouble and said a good word about Albus Dumbledore? If he did then where the hell was he during the war? Why didn't he pop in every time an order member was in danger? Harry could forgive third year since the dementors were the ministry's fault and no one knew Sirius was innocent but this year...this year...how could Dumbledore be fooled for an entire year? Wasn't Moody an extremely close old friend of his? Slowly horror crept up on him. Harry had already figured out that the old man was only pretending to care but this was taking things up several levels. Albus Dumbledore suddenly seemed an extremely dangerous individual.

"He's not going back there Petunia!" Uncle Vernon continued in a more normal voice, calming down slightly at the sight of his pale wife.

"I concur" said a still very shaken Petunia. Harry felt guilty for having caused her such distress.

Turning towards the boy Petunia attempted to get a hold of herself. Harry was here in front of her. He was _alive_ and Petunia had yet to break the promise she had made over her sister's cold corpse. The promise to provide willing care and protection until the boy became a man. Right now the only way to protect the boy was to get him as far away from that crazy Dumbledore and the even crazier newly arisen Dark Lord as she could physically manage. A plan started to form in her head.

"Which school are you thinking about? New Blood?" she asked Harry. Upon his affirmation Petunia gave a nod of approval.

New Blood seemed very secure. You couldn't even say it's name outside of immediate family. If the only way to the school's location were by these pendants then Dumbledore might not even know the first place to begin looking for Harry.

"Fill out the application form and send it in. Request the summer tryout of the courses you want to do."

Seeing the boy open his mouth to object she cut across him.

"It makes no sense to enroll you and then you can't keep up and fail out of the school. Then you'll be back at Hogwarts under Dumbledore's control anyway. Take the summer test run and see if the school lives up to it's promise of high academic quality as well as its equal claim of high security. In this case extremely high security is a mandatory requirement but we must also think of the future. If this Voldemort is back then he will come for you. Not if but when."

Peering at the pasty-looking boy Petunia gave him a sharp, cold, ruthless smile.

"And when he does Harry _you make him regret it_. Make him understand that more than just the Boy Who Lived or a Potter, you are an **Evans**. Make him cry when he realises what that means. Make him beg for mercy. Make him crawl for it. And then..." A hard look appeared in her eyes and at that moment Harry thought she never looked more frightening or more lovely.

"...slaughter him like the over weight pig that he is. And this time child, make sure he dies properly. "

Harry gulped as he stared at his aunt wide-eyed as a shiver of premonition slid down his spine. It was strange how this little speech from Aunt Petunia sounded more like a prophecy than Trelawney's. Uncle Vernon had sat quiet this entire time, a grim look on his face as he looked at them. He seemed to be silently agreeing. Harry didn't know what to make of this. He turned and headed upstairs without a word and she let him. He walked to his room and just sat on his bed in a daze. Glancing over at his desk to the application form Harry's eyes slowly gained a dangerous light. Never forget that you are an **Evans** she said. He picked up the form and started to fill it. Ok then. Ok.

* * *

For those not in the know the contents of the letter is in the story Disillusion which is a prelude to this story. Please review :)


	4. Chapter 4

_**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**_

Disclaimer: I own only the original characters in this story. Every all other characters belong to their rich owners.

_**Chapter Four**_

_**Solutions: Part 2**_

* * *

Giacinta Evans was born a healthy baby girl on a hot summer afternoon in late 1895. Owning a sharp tongue that tended to displease her social peers, Giacinta often found herself lonesome. On her ninth birthday little Giacinta finally entered into service within the household of the Bastiens, a local aristocratic family. Whilst Giacinta's sharp almost shrew manner continued to displease the household staff, the Lady of the house found her amusing and took a shine to the child. Bestowing what some viewed as an unacceptable amount of time on a little servant girl, Lady Bastien taught the child to read, write, sew and the musical arts.

When Giacinta turned eleven she received a strange letter from a school called Magica Accademia d'Italia. The school claimed it was an academy suited to the magically inclined, of which Giacinta belonged, and invited her to attend. Giacinta, a pragmatic girl, was both elated at finally knowing why the dishes sometimes washed themselves when she was very tired, and very very frightened. Her parents, as much as they were good people and loved her, were not particularly open-minded individuals, especially towards the paranormal. Rightly fearing for her life, Giacinta quickly burnt the letter before anyone could see it's contents and vowed to take the knowledge of what she was to her grave. So when Lady Bastien enquired of the whereabouts of her acceptance letter she was met with extreme shock. Seeing the rising panic in the child's eyes, the Lady sought to sooth by giving an explanation of the Bastien family, magic, and the possible benefits to one such as Giacinta. An offer of sponsorship with an additional offer to join the Bastien family, and by extension the Kuriyama Clan, upon completion of schooling was also extended to the little girl. Giacinta, far from the fool the kitchen maids called her, accepted at once. This was confirmed by her shocked, happy parents only an hour later who were really only informed of their daughter sponsorship to an elite school by their Lady.

Five years later Giacinta graduated with honours from Magica Accademia d'Italia at the phenomenal age of sixteen and membership of the Bastien house was confirmed both magically and legally. The next three years would prove some of the hardest for young Giacinta whom up until this point had no idea what the Kuriyama Clan demanded from its members. Yet she rose to the challenge, quickly gaining a reputation of sharpness and concluding her years of instruction with high praise. Now that the time had arrived to join her Mistress as her social equal, Giacinta, to the shock of her fellow Clan members, declined the invitation. Kneeling before her Lady, she took and kissed the hand of the woman who had never treated her as her servant status demanded, and swore fealty instead. Giacinta's only wish was to be her Lady's living shield and sword. Though Lady Bastien tried in vain to dissuade her of this course, Giacinta remained adamant to her goal.

She became her mistress's shadow. During her tenure of official hand maid but unofficial bodyguard to her Lady, Giacinta would go down in Clan legend as one of the greatest warriors of the Kuriyama and would gain the title, Giacinta Evans du Bastien, _Knife_ of the Kuriyama Clan. Unfortunately, shields have short lifespans, and a shield to Lady Bastien, Head of the Kuriyama Clan, had a lifespan that was even shorter. One early day in March in the year 1916, the Lady was attacked by a force large enough to give even her substantial skills some trouble. In the heat of the battle the Lady failed to notice an attack upon her blind side. Giacinta, quickly noticing what her Mistress did not, snapped a magical shield in place, eyes widening when the small ball blew through the shield. Without hesitation, Giacinta phased in front of her Mistress placing her body directly in front of the weapon and taking the bullet straight through the heart. She died instantly.

It is perhaps interesting to note at this point that Lady Ginevra Bastien was the youngest Head in the Clan's history. Contrary to most of her Clan, she was a kind, gentle soul who preferred flower pressing and quiet visits with friends to fighting or killing though she was rather good at both. Up until this point in her life she had simply fought to disable her enemies rather than kill, regardless of the disapproval of the Clan elders. For this reason alone Ginevra experienced far too many bold assassination attempts by those who viewed her mercy as a weakness. However, watching the woman that she secretly acknowledged as the daughter of her heart take a fatal blow for her caused something within Ginevra to snap. For Ginevra had inherited a unique Clan trait, one of their strongest, and she was considered a prodigy in it's usage.

Lady Ginevra Bastien was a _Blood Bender_.

As the power sung within her veins, a picture of a nine year old girl sounding out her letters one by one flashed through her mind and her fury knew no bounds. Reaching out with her hand, Ginevra _pulled,_ ripping the blood from five attackers at once. With an almost lazy roll of her wrists she turned the blood in the air into vapour, a cold look upon her face.

"Sercë Raumo." *

And the sky opened up and cried acid blood.

***.*.***

Giacinta's parents were devastated at her death. Her mother, a luscious red-haired vixen whose beauty was considered on par with many of the famous _ton_, fell into a massive depression, worrying severely both her husband and her Lady. Pleading with a grieving , guilty Mistress, Augus Evans begged to be allowed to take his wife back to his home country, away from the constant reminders of their lost that the environment provided. So in late December that year the Evans quietly made the journey back to Augus's home country, England. Eventually, without constant reminders surrounding her, Mrs Fiorella Evans did get better and the couple welcomed a surprisingly late addition to the family in August 1920, a calm quiet little boy called David Eugene Evans. Unlike his late sister, David was non-magical, though sometimes when he was truly enraged, his antagoniser experienced the rather odd bad luck of a nosebleed. David grew up and married Stella Hughs and was blessed with two beautiful girls, Petunia Rose Evans, and Lily Jasmine Evans.

* * *

'_What is magic? How is the body accessing magic? Is it something to do with the brain? Do wizards have access to certain parts of the brain that muggles don't? What percentage of the brain do wizards use? Or is it some aspect intertwine in the molecules of their genetic codes? What causes two muggles to have a magical child and two magicals to have a muggle? If a child is a squib does he or she still have those aspects of the brain that magicals do but due to missing?damaged? genetics they are unable to access those parts of the brain anymore? Or maybe it is that their magic is just internalized? Would healers have this information? I'll have to ask one but not Madame Pomfrey though she never answers my questions... no one ever answers my questions they just make fun of me. Why is it most of the magicals in Britain are lacking in common sense or academic curiosity? Don't they ever wonder…'_

Knock Knock Knock!

Jumping slightly, Hermione Granger shook her head clear of her never ending questions and stood up from her peach and white coloured bed. Walking towards the bedroom door, she threw it open to reveal an impatient honey blonde grey-eyed woman clothed in a brown luxurious vicuna shawl, a tight fitting pair of Earnest Sewn rustic brown jeans and a pair of rich brown Jimmy Choo ankle boots. Ellene 'Sweets' Granger was the elder half sister of Hermione, born to a wild eighteen year old Jonathan Granger, seven years before he had even met Hermione's mother, Katherine Herby. Having been a successful lawyer for Donald Trump for the last fifteen years, Ellene had recently retired (at forty-five!) to a rather cozy ten-acre lot in Houston, Texas. Unfortunately, now that she had the time, Ellene had zoomed in on her little sister like some predator bird, and Hermione was equal parts thrilled and apprehensive of the attention bestowed upon her by her brilliant, though slightly frightening sister. Thrilled because more than just the sibling bond, Ellene _understood_ Hermione and was the only one the girl felt comfortable bouncing ideas on. Apprehensive because her sister was a force to be reckoned with and Hermione most of the time felt out of breath just trying to keep up with her.

Raising a delicate eyebrow at the bushy haired teen's strange ensemble of green shirt beaded with gold sequins and a red calf-length skirt, Ellene just shook her head mentally and sighed. At some point she really had to drag Hermione shopping. The only fashionable thing the girl had in her closet was that dress Ellene gave her for that ball at Hogwarts.

"Are you ready? The school rep will be here in five minutes."

"Yes I think so. I have everything. Do you think this school is as good as it looks on paper?"

Hermione absent mindedly touched her blue studs, a subconsciously nervous gesture that let Ellene know her sister wasn't as calm as she looked. Ellene had noted at least five such gestures today. She was going to have to train the girl out of that. No one should be able to so easily know your state of mind, it left too many opportunities for manipulation.

"Well that's why you're taking the summer tryouts yes? Stop worrying I'll be renting a place for the summer there as well."

Hermione looked up at her sister in shock. Ellene smirked at her.

"I know you kid. If this school is even half the school it looks on paper then it's already got Hogwarts beat. You're unhappy at the pig school and far too good for it. So I called the number that came with the information pack and told them I wanted to spend the next summer with my little sis. Family obligation, not about to let her out of my sight. Filled out all the papers from last year. Sent my stuff off with that school rep yesterday."

Smirk softening into a real smile Ellene looked down into brown tear filled eyes.

"I want to see this place for myself Hermione. None of that sending you off without even seeing the place thing. Da and Ma really shouldn't have done that. They took a serious chance. I won't even let you know the details of the massive argument I had on the phone with Da about it. Just because someone comes and show she could do magic does not make her intentions solid gold. Suppose those Hoggywarts people had been lying and they'd really been child trafficking magical children instead of taking you to a school? So no I'll be coming with to see this place. Let's see if they're as welcoming of muggles as they say." Lips curving in an amused smile she gave her sister a knowing look.

"And stop worrying about your friends, if they're really your friends they will understand why you're getting the hell away from that backwater Pigwarts place. There's a Hitler wannabe just fresh off the catwalk of death and his main goal is to kill people like you. The Minister is guest starring in his own horror movie as the Ugly Ostrich about the whole thing. The only logical thing to do in that kind of circumstance is move away as far and as fast as you can whilst shaking the stupidity off your boots."

Giggling a little at the imagery, especially of Voldemort walking down a catwalk, Hermione gave a huge smile at her sister and would have hugged her if the doorbell didn't ring downstairs. Ellene smirked at her baby sister and picked up one of the bags lying around.

"Showtime babycakes."

Managing to arrive downstairs first (Hogwarts flights of stairs kept a girl fit you know), Hermione loudly slammed the door straight into the wall in her excitement. Her parents who arrived just seconds after their overly excited daughter looked on in amusement as they made sure to stay out of the teen's way. Their amusement however faded when their daughter just stood there and stared.

For standing in the doorway dressed in a black, sleeveless, tight fitting spandex shirt, a tight fitting grey metal looking vest (and _woahhhh_ where did those **muscles** come from?) and a pair of black pants was none other than a widely grinning Remus Lupin.

And standing behind him giving her a one hundred watts smile was Harry Potter.

* * *

The first few impressions Harry got of Ivor Lonnath was _expensive_. It was like some movie version of the infamous city El Dorado but instead of gold everywhere there were _crysta_ls. With clear, slightly purplish gleaming walls made of amethyst quartz, and a black polished floor made from what looked like _pearls_ of all things, the Customs building looked more like a bank for the rich and famous than an inspection and security point. Shocked, the group stared bug-eyed in every direction.

Remus chuckled. He was so glad he'd called in that favour Jeff owed him. When Jeff had called him to say his godson just sent in an acceptance form he had been thrilled. Finally he could get to know his godson without any interfering old Headmasters around. Finding out that the other student he had to pick up in Britain was Hermione Granger had just been the icing on the cake. The girl was so brilliant it had sadden him to be prevented from giving her more advance work but Mcgonagall had been adamant. As fond as she was of Hermione, the Gryffindor head was afraid to encourage the girl in ideas above her station. Muggleborns, McGonagall argued, did not go far in their society and it would do Hermione well to learn from early to keep her ideas to herself and curb her excessive curiosity. Remus had held his tongue though anger and frustration had bubbled up within him. This kind of attitude was exactly the reason why Magical Britain was so behind the rest of the world. So far Remus had to admit he was enjoying his former students reactions.

"Wha...how..wha..What the...What _is_ this..._**how the hell are they paying for this**_!" demanded a shocked Hermione. If this was an example of the average building here then she wasn't sure her parents could afford to pay the standard cost of living she would have to undertake and she might have to pass up on the school. Petunia was of a similar sentimentality. She had never even _heard_ of a building being made entirely of pearls and crystals before. Ahead of them was a neat line in front of a door with a sign written: Check in/Check out, Magical Scan, and Baggage. The group headed to the door as Remus explained things.

"Actually what you're seeing is very common here. Now that we've arrived I can fill you in on some very vital information. We are on an island called Ivor Lonnath which is High Elvish for Crystal Haven. Ivor Lonnath is the largest of six islands called The Crystal Isles that are located directly above the Earth's crystal point. They were once a part of the Forgotten Realms but broke off during the Crown Wars when the islands were placed in complete lockdown for several thousand years. The native inhabitants had no desire to be forced into war. The exact location of the Crystal Islands is still unknown to anyone but the High Lord, his advisors and the heads of the military. Everyone gains entry and leaves through the use of pendants or some sort of jewellery with the exception of Black Ops and ANBU who travel to and from using a specially constructed tattoo. Precious stones and gems are as common here as trees and not even half as expensive. "

Hermione's hand shot up in the air so fast that it nearly hit Harry in the eye. Ellene snorted in amusement.

"There's no reason to raise your hand Hermione we're not in class. What do you want to ask?" Remus asked, lips twitching.

"Um Professor Lupin what's a crystal point? And why didn't we learn of the Crystal Isles or the Crown Wars in History of Magic? And what are the Forgotten Realms? Where is that? 'World Magical Societies' doesn't cover it and it's never been mentioned in other books...and what are ANBU? Or Black Ops?"

"Hmm well I don't want to go into detail since we'll be checking in soon and all of this will be covered in either your history class (if you choose to take it) or magical theory class, but I'll give a quick answer on what's a crystal point.

A crystal point is a specific location on a planet where the core of the planet's power is created. Every planet has one though extremely large planets are known for sometimes having two. From this point or points power gently flows out, a bit like sound waves to the rest of the planet providing the energy necessary for life to exist.

Now a planet's power is reiryoku in nature. This affects the planet's inhabitants both spiritually and physically. On the spiritual side of things, each spirit is made up purely of planetary energy, the planet's children so to speak. Everytime you die your spirit returns to the ocean of soul energy of which you came from before returning to be born in a new body. The more re-incarnations you have undergone the higher your spiritual energy. In some cases very sensitive beings also absorb minute amounts of planetary power physically and their genetics undergo slight alterations to adapt. These beings might display power during their lifetimes or not. For example, there is a study underway right now on the mundane mutants in America. The researcher is arguing that the last major Earthquake there may have caused a massive flare of planetary reiryoku in the area thereby causing slight and in some cases major genetic alterations in the more sensitive. It depends on how far the genes were able to adapt. I'm inclined to agree since magical children being born in America right now are measuring at almost three times the power of their parents. Either way once a gene sequence is adjusted, whether it be activated or not, it will be passed on to any descendants. In general, all beings are capable of using the planet's power it is simply how far they can do so."

"Is that how we get magic?" Harry asked highly interested. He had always wondered about that.

"Yes it is. Magic is in fact the result of the planet's reiryoku altering our gene sequence in a specific way. This allows us to be able to access and use our spiritual energy. In some cases it may take several generations to accumulate enough reiryoku to allow activation of the gene. There are also other gene variations on the planet that allows the user to express their stored reiryoku in a unique way. You'll probably meet quite a few classmates that express reiryoku in a different way from you. I'll tell you the rest later since it's our turn now." With that Remus opened and entered the room, the group following him.

In the room were two people dressed in black and white, one behind a desk and the other standing by a clear floor to ceiling tube with strange symbols on the base. Remus led them first to the woman behind the desk.

"Papers please" the woman asked in a brisk professional manner. The group handed over their passports, Visas and Hermione's and Harry's admission letters. The officer examined everything carefully before stamping all their papers and scanning them into her system.

"Hermione Granger?" the woman suddenly called out still typing. Hermione blinked in surprise.

"Yes?"

"Step over here please." the officer said pointing at the machine besides her desk. "Place any magical items on your person in the tray to your left. Then look directly into the lens and place your hands face down on the clear surface."

"Um ok" Hermione said and did as she was told. A light scanned both her eyes and hands as well as her wand, quickly sending the information gathered into the computer. The process was duplicated for the rest of the group.

"Thank you. Collect your wands and head over to the Magical Scan Area." said the officer while handing them back their passports.

Bemused the group shuffled over to the clear tube-like thing where a very severe-looking man stood.

"One at time please. Enter the Scanner and look straight ahead. Wait there until I tell you to leave."

Remus decided to go first to show the group how it's done. A light scanned him head to toe and a ding sound was heard before a slot on the side of the tube shot a print out. The officer looked over the print out then frowned a bit.

"Come out and stand behind the yellow line."

Remus's eyebrow shot up in surprise and a bit of concern. This was different. Normally you were only told to stand behind the yellow line if they found something dangerous or illegal on you. Hiding his worry he smiled at the rest of the group and moved over to stand behind the yellow line. Luckily everything went smoothly for everyone else, that is until they got to Harry. Frowning harshly the officer scanned the teenage boy three times before telling him to stand behind the yellow line. Mr. Grumpy (as Remus had began calling him in his head) looked very displeased. He spoke into the microphone attached to his earpiece and another officer arrived. He spoke to the new officer in whispers showing him both Harry and Remus results. This new officer frowned at Remus's but looked downright annoyed at Harry's. Turning to the rest of the group he told them to please leave the room and head towards the Baggage area. Confused, Ellene and Hermione left, Ellene having to forcefully drag her indignant sister with a hand placed firmly over her mouth. Ellene would have loved to question the officers too on what the hell was going on but she knew custom officers could be very touchy. Whatever this was about they felt it necessary to separate the group. Petunia however stood her ground.

"I am the boy's guardian. If there is a problem then I want to know."

"Very well, follow me." said the other officer and led the three of them to a door on the left that turned out to be leading to a corridor of other doors. Knocking on one marked "Healer Goodperson" he opened the door and indicated they should proceed him. Harry snickered a bit when he saw the name, relieving a bit of the tension that had been building up. An old, greying man in a white coat sat behind a desk. A bed lay on the right of the desk and a cabinet loaded with books, scrolls and bottles filled with various coloured liquids on the left. The old man, obviously Healer Goodperson, looked up and regarded the four with curiosity.

"Hello Johnson it's been awhile since I've seen you last. Who are these people?"

"Mr. Goodperson, I've been occupied lately you know how it is. May I introduce you to Mr. Remus Lupin and Mr. Harry Potter. Mrs. Petunia Dursley here is Mr. Potter's guardian."

Conjuring three chairs, Healer Goodperson invited the group to have a seat. The newly named Officer Johnson handed the results of the scans to him as Harry, Petunia and Remus nervously sat in the chairs in front of the desk. Officer Johnson leaned on the closed door behind the three and Remus felt the hairs on his neck rise with paranoia. He really didn't like people at his back. Reading the results of Remus's scan first made Healer Goodperson frown. He turned to Remus with a sharp look in his eyes.

"Mr Lupin, why do you have a Level 15 banned substance in your bloodstream?"

Huh? Remus just blinked before his eyes widened and it finally dawned on him what the healer was talking about. Oh good grief_ the wolfsbane_! Well..._crap_! That's considered on the level of cocaine here. He forgot to flush that shit from his system before coming back. CRAP!

Petunia's brain took only a moment to fully understand what the magical doctor was saying before throwing the werewolf a look of complete outrage. Drugs! DRUGS! The man was a drug addict! Or a drug dealer! _This_ man had been Harry's _teacher_? This man had been one of the _better_ teachers? Petunia felt enraged on behalf of all the good mothers who sent their children to that crackpot school, ignorant about the school's drug dealer professors and mentally ill Hippie Headmaster.

Seeing Petunia's dirty look, Remus decided it was time to practice the grand art of bullshitting your way out of trouble. Good thing he's had so much practice. He took a deep breath then, without an ounce of remorse, proceeded to gleefully throw Albus Dumbledore under the bus. He explained the Headmaster's requirements to teach at Hogwarts and Magical Britain's extreme prejudice towards werewolves to his very interested audience. At the end of the long winded explanation Harry's eyes were wide, Petunia still looked judgemental and the doctor looked at Remus with a raised eyebrow.

"Well we can't let you leave here before flushing this from your system Mr. Lupin. Wolfsbane is illegal in Ivor Lonnath. You are no stranger here so you should know this. You can not enter the country with an illegal substance in your bloodstream, I repeat you should _know_ this. I can't even begin to understand why you agreed to Mr. Dumbledore's demands. There are other much better paying schools whose administration will not demand you consume addictive **drugs** that are both physically and mentally harmful to you in order for you to work there."

He got up from his seat and took one of the bottles with a blue liquid from his cabinet, handing it to sheepish-looking Remus. Officer Johnson spoke up then, his voice hard.

"You will have to call someone to pick up your charges and show them to the school Mr. Lupin. I _WILL_ be placing this on your permanent record since you _dared_ to enter my country doped up on a drug that is known for resulting in a feral werewolf. _A feral werewolf is a danger to itself and others!_ Take this potion now while I'm watching you. Afterwards, you will be escorted to a room where you will remain under surveillance for the next forty-eight hours. You will report to Healer Goodperson every day for the next two weeks to deal with any side effects. You will also report here three weeks from now for the next full moon. If you should show any signs of addiction or possible damage to your psyche you WILL be admitted to the Drug Abuse ward at the Crystal Hospital. Failure to comply will result in an immediate voiding of your residency visa and you will be deported. So, I hope for your sake, Mr. Lupin, that it doesn't come to _that_."

Remus nodded and drank the potion with a pale, shocked Harry looking on whilst Petunia just nodded in agreement. As far as Petunia was concerned Remus was an adult and should have known better. 'I forgot to flush the drugs out of my system before coming here' and 'he made me do it' were hardly good excuses. And of course Dumbledore had demand such an illogical thing. The man was surely going senile.

Harry never knew wolfsbane could do all of that. Why did Dumbledore ask that of Remus? Surely there were other options? After ensuring Remus drank the potion, the healer turned his attention to Harry's scan results. He began scowling. Returning to his cabinet once more he took out a small black box. Removing the cover he liberated from the box a strange looking deep red crystal with steel wiring around it in a net design.

"Mr. Potter is it? Please have a sit on the bed." he said. A puzzled and nervous Harry did as he was told. Remus got pulled up because of something wrong he did so therefore Harry himself must have done something wrong. The Healer, seeing the boy's nervousness cleared his face of the scowl and gave him a kind smile.

"Don't worry son I'm just going to ask you a few questions, then we're going to be doing a completely painless test. Your scan revealed a few anomalies that is a bit concerning. Depending on the test I'll put a few precautionary methods in place then we'll sit down and you'll finally get your explanation as to what's going on. Is that ok with you? "

"Um ok."

"Ok then. Do you get headaches often Mr. Potter?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes? How often is this? Once a week? A month?"

"Um a few times a week."

Healer Goodperson took out a form from his desk and started to fill it.

"Have you ever had any dizzy spells?"

"Yes? I mean a few times after quidditch."

"Do these occur after an accident? A fall perhaps?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes? So sometimes it happens without any outside influence?"

"I guess."

"Hmmm. How's your magic flow?"

"My what?"

"Your magic flow. Do you find it difficult to perform magic sometimes? Like you have to force it?"

"Oh. Um sometimes. Only for certain subjects though like transfiguration."

"I see. Does your head hurt while performing magic?"

"Yeah. Depends on subject though."

"Like transfiguration?"

"Yeah and DADA and Charms."

Remus frowned during the entire questioning. It sounded like Harry was sick. He _had_ noticed power fluctuations behind some of Harry's casting but when Remus had mentioned it to Poppy she said it was just puberty. Remus felt upset with himself. Puberty had never affected the power behind _his_ spells so why would it affect Harry's? Healer Goodperson tapped Harry's head with a finger while muttering in an unknown language and Harry felt something water-like break over him. Healer Goodperson wrote something on the form, shaking his head the entire time.

"Ok Mr. Potter please hold this" he said handing over the small deep red stone. As soon as Harry held the stone it started cycling colours from red to mud brown to pitch black then back to red. Healer Goodperson looked momentarily shocked, before catching himself and clearing his face. Shaking his head again he wrote something on his form. He walked to his desk and took out a small pot of ink and a paint brush. Remus's right eyebrow went up as a thread of alarm passed through him. _Sealing_ ink? What on earth was Healer Goodperson sealing?

Pulling up a chair in front of Harry, the healer swiftly bit his thumb and mixed a few drops of blood in the ink. Both Petunia and Harry watched fascinated, though Petunia was beginning to get a bad feeling. It was obvious something was wrong but something in the way this was being handled kept her from demanding to know immediately what was going on.

"Please lie down Mr. Potter. I suggest you close your eyes for a bit while I paint this on. After I activate it you will black out for a few minutes but this is completely natural. When you wake up I'll explain to you why we're doing this ok?"

Harry felt very hesitant but a quick nod from Petunia eased him somewhat and he lay his small frame on the bed, closing his eyes. The healer immediately went to work. To Remus's surprise, the old man started writing containment seals around Harry's _scar_. Remus frowned. There was some memory troubling him about this but he could not remember exactly. Wait...the headaches, the dizziness, the magic fluctuations. The more magic used the stronger the headaches. Suddenly, with perfectly horrific clarity, Remus **knew** what the good doctor was sealing. That stone...that stone must have been a...must have confirmed...

' _It's there. It's SMILING. It's there, ALIVE. They don't know it's there.' _

Laughter echoed through Remus head.

_It's...w.a.t.c.h.i.n.g. _

_It's...w.a.i.t.i.n.g. _

_It's looking at YOU. _

_It's in no hurry. It's just __**watching**__ us all. It's just waiting for the boy to slip up. He'll slip up eventually. Children have such...__**terrible**__...tempers...'_

Fear rocked the former DADA teacher. Oh merciful goddess how had they not noticed? The power fluctuations...the _thing_ was _feeding_ on the child's powers. Remus gripped the chair so hard that his hands left indents in the wood. The wood protested with a loud _CRACK_ and Harry immediately opened his eyes, both he and Petunia turning to watch Remus in surprise.

"Remus?" the boy said, watching the chair in shock. He looked up to his former professor in confusion and for the first time Remus saw it. It was small, practically discernable. Just a spot, just a slight light reflection in the left corner of the eye directly under the scar.

_It_ was _watching_ him.

No wonder they refused to explain anything to Harry until after the procedure. They couldn't until the _thing_ was sealed or risk _it_ attempting to possess the boy in order to survive. With the amount of power it would have gathered over the years…

"I'm fine Harry" Remus said smiling at his godson whilst mentally screaming bloody murder at the _thing_. "Just don't know my own strength."

He felt a brief spike of power in Officer Johnson though the man had yet to move or change his facial expression. The boy sent Remus another confused look before Healer Goodperson gently coached him into lying back again. Petunia however, was now convinced something was very wrong.

"Just a minute more son. Then you'll take a rest and then we'll have ourselves a nice talk hm?"

The healer smiled at the boy, but Remus noted the strain behind the it and his tense movements as he continued writing the rest of the seals.

So they had seen _it _as well.

The healer finished then channelled some power into the seals. The seals turned even darker before giving a flash and turning a deep red. Then Harry passed out.

Everyone in the room gave a sigh of relief. Petunia could no longer take it.

"What is going on!" she shouted, both out of fear and annoyance. Healer Good person answered.

"Mrs. Dursley, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our scanner indicated your nephew was currently suffering from a possession. What I just did is seal it away so it could never influence him or take control of his body. Since it's sealed it will no longer trigger warnings from our scanner."

The woman paled.

Remus noticed his hands was shaking. For all his training he never once had to deal with possession. The Healer turned to him.

"This is Harry Potter right? As in the so-called Boy-Who-Lived child?"

"Yes."

"We have a problem then Mr. Lupin. Considering the location of that spirit I think we'd be wasting our time in pretending we don't know who that is. That's no mere possession, your dark lord's been dipping in the black reiryoku arts. And that spirit is only a soul fragment. The idiot can't have known what that actually did. Or maybe he did. Maybe he knew that by doing so no one would dare take the risk of killing him."

Remus felt confusion begin to mingle with his horror.

"What do you mean no one would take the risk of killing him?" Petunia asked faintly, beating Remus by seconds from asking the same question.

It was the customs officer that answered.

"Mr. Lupin when you use black reiryoku magic your soul becomes contaminated. Normally a single soul's contamination is too little to trouble the planet and is cleansed during re-incarnation. However, that is a whole soul with a bit of contamination. From what I can tell from this piece's strength, it seems like Voldemort added something to the ritual to give each of his soul parts enough life and awareness to have independent thought and actions. Whether intentionally or not, he has made each fragment a soul on it's own. Now one soul on its own might not cause the planet reiryoku any problems, several souls of pure black reiryoku however could potentially contaminate the entire pool!"

"Couldn't we just find and destroy the parts separately?" asked the desperate werewolf.

"Oh we could locate and destroy the parts but in truth we would only be destroying their containers. You cannot kill a soul by destroying it's parts separately. What happens when you do that is the supposed destroyed soul is now freed from whatever was containing it. Then it proceeds to locate and re-emerge with the original soul. Imagine the blackness and power of the Voldemort you remember. His soul was already split then. Now figure out what would happen if one of those soul fragments, which has been feeding on the power around it from its creation, lose its container and re-joins with the original. Already we have no idea just how many pieces this psychotic cuckoo has created. I could just see some fool, picturing himself as a blasted hero, going and kill Voldemort after all the containers for the soul fragments' were destroyed. Then Voldemort's now whole soul, with the blackness of several soul reiryoku, goes to the planet's pure reiryoku and infects the entire soul pool. The planet would be dead within a century."

Remus was speechless. So Voldemort really had made himself immortal through simply making his soul so dark that no one could risk killing him. Anyone who tried would potentially be sentencing the planet to death. The man was a serious basket case! The healer sat behind his desk warily. He looked at Remus.

"I follow international events Mr. Lupin so I'm aware the boy is claiming Voldemort has been revived using some dark ritual. Is this true?"

"Yes" answered a disheartened Remus.

"I...see. Johnson you're going to have to alert the High Lord about this. I'm not sure what can be done. Mr. Lupin someone will also have to keep an eye on the child as well. A more permanent seal will have to be placed within the next month. His health has taken a bit of a hit from the possession so he's not physically where he should be at his age."

"Can't the soul fragment be transferred to something else? Like an animate or inanimate object?" Petunia suddenly spoke up.

"Unfortunately that's just not possible. The only way that soul piece is coming out is with the boy's death. I'm sorry Mrs Dursley." The healer really was sorry. He had a boy Potter's age and he couldn't imagine what he would do if given this kind of news.

Petunia sighed. She knew she had been grasping at straws but she didn't know how she was suppose to explain _this_ to her nephew and then tell him there was nothing anyone could do. She watched as the Lupin fellow called someone named Jeff and arranged for him to pick them up.

'That would not have been necessary if you weren't doing drugs' thought a catty Petunia. Without further ado the customs officer then led a reluctant Remus from Healer Goodperson's office and down the hall, leaving Petunia to wait on Harry regaining consciousness. A door to the right revealed a small bedroom and he ushered Remus into the room.

"Mr. Lupin I must ask if your dark lord is planning on leaving the boy alone?" Officer Johnson suddenly spoke up in the momentary silence. He didn't want to keep rubbing the man's face in reality but he had a job to do. Remus hesitated. If they thought keeping Harry was too dangerous they might prevent him from staying in the country. That would put his godson right back to being in the middle of Dumbledore's little chess game. Johnson smirked at the werewolf's flash of indecision. For all that this man was a student of the Professor for so many years he was still very easy to read.

"We are hardly going to feed the boy to the wolves Mr. Lupin but we do need to know. You might want to alert the school as well. Certain precautions must be taken after all."

Stopping in the doorway he turned to face Remus.

"You might also want to convince his aunt to get in touch with their magical clan. I would think the Kuriyamas would be delighted to train one of their members on how to deal with overly confident dark lords with mortality issues."

Officer Johnson smirked as he shut the door on the shocked, gaping werewolf's face and whistled gaily as he walked with purpose down the corridor. He had a High Lord to see.

* * *

Jeff arrived around twenty-five minutes after the revelation in the healer's office and around fifteen minutes after Harry woke up. Petunia and Harry waited with the Grangers for the werewolf in almost suffocating silence. Harry refuse to answer Hermione's questions leaving her fully frustrated and concerned. Actually he hadn't spoken since the conversation with Healer Goodperson and was in a state of shock. As a result of this he barely registered the group's arrival to the student apartments until aunt Petunia's loud exclamation of appreciation upon reaching his room. Shaking himself Harry plastered on the brave, happy mask of the Boy-Who-Lived and looked around, then did a double take. Wowwww. Ok. WOWWWWWW.

New Blood Hall was an apartment building that catered specifically to students. Whilst it lacked the crystal and gem glam of most of the buildings they had seen so far, this building was _huge_ and so tall they couldn't even see the top. The first floor consisted of three laundromats, several small restaurants, a small grocery store, a potions shop, a small cinema, a small bookstore, an electronics store, a gym and an internet cafe. The apartments were apparently as impressive as the size of the building as well. Whilst they were small (1000 sq feet), Harry's came fully furnished with beautiful black hardwood floors, warm red walls, a wide screen tv and an open floor plan; he couldn't even believe this was where he was going to live. The kitchen was small and simple (though with quality appliances and a butcher block countertop), the bedroom was a good size with a mahogany bookcase, desk, wardrobe, and the bathroom had both a shower and a jet tub. Hermione's turned out to be very similar with the difference only being in wall colour, the kitchen-bathroom ratio (her kitchen was larger than his and had granite countertops instead but her bathroom was on the small side and only had a shower), and a door in the bedroom leading to a small balcony. Hermione was a bit disappointed about the lack of a tub but all in all it was pretty good for such low rent. Leaving the two teens' bags at their apartments, they followed Jeff back to the van and headed to New Blood for registration and the official tour.

New Blood International Academy was a marvel of architectural artistry. From the ground floor and up, each consecutive floor was made up into a crystal star design, with the ground floor being the largest and the top floor the smallest. Jeff, deeply amused at this group's reactions and wanting to show off a bit, decided to give the tour first before taking them to registration.

Hermione Granger instantly fell in love with the library. The girl actually squealed and darted pass the librarian to start caressing books! Jeff nearly burst out laughing at the look of rapture on the girl's face. As amusing as Ellene found her sister's fangirlish tendencies to anything remotely resembling a book even she had to admit this was extremely impressive. A beautiful mural painted in the manner of the masters of old stretched across the roof in loving detail. There were four rooms and six levels of nothing but books and scrolls with beautiful, spiraling, hand designed staircases and doors to lead you to each one. Ellene noted that some of the students felt comfortable enough to even sit on the rouge carpeted floor with their work spread around them. There was a boy with brown hair in a corner way to the back of the last room that apparently felt so _comfortable_ that he was fast asleep with his feet on the desk. Ellene shook her head in amusement. A door on the right of that room led to a state of the arts computer lab. Yes, this school was definitely shaping up to be worth something but Ellene would still reserve judgement until after the first two weeks of Hermione's classes.

"Mr. Anderson, are Harry and I the only ones from Hogwarts here?" asked Hermione. She sent a disapproving glance at the boy sleeping two tables from them. Honestly! The boy was even using one of his books behind his head as a pillow!

"Well no. Those new bloods and half-bloods raised in the mundane world who returned to Hogwarts for their fifth year either turned the Academy down outright or failed the summer session. You'll see a few classmates from your year here as well. One or two of your classmates already rejected the offer last year and a couple others attended the previous summer session and decided it wasn't for them. Not everyone can handle the pace this school sets and the hours it keeps. There are many even on Ivor Lonnath who choose to attend school elsewhere for this very reason. You need to understand that New Blood will drive you to the limit of your potential and sometimes beyond. Not everyone can handle the stress that comes with that. If you can make it through here you will be on the path to being the best you can ever be in your chosen field."

Hermione looked at their guide with shining eyes. With red cheeks and hands clasp in front as though in prayer she looked like some overly excited preschooler.

"Oh Mr. Anderson that sounds perfectly _wonderful_! I was wondering would you be inclined to answer a few questions for me? Or to show me to the nearest books with the answers? Oh I can't wait for class to start!"

Then without even waiting for a response Hermione was off.

"Professor Lupin said that a researcher believes the so-called mundane mutants in America are really just displaying some variation of the magical gene. Does that make them magical then? If they are magical will they be made to attend magical school? By being so public with their abilities aren't they breaking the Statute of Secrecy?

Can magic be explained using the fourth dimension? Or is its existent a key part of the fabled fifth dimension? Can you measure magic and if so how? And can we apply physics? I read a lovely book recently by Steven Thomas who argued that if one can find a way to establish a set of basic rules by which the paranormal found within such literature as '_Alice in Wonderland_' can be explained scientifically, then one can indeed explain the phenomenon called magic. I saw a course on New Blood's list called Metaphysical Physics, was this branch of physics created to explain magic? Seriously though magic breaks so many key elements of physics can we even apply it here? Why do we even call our powers magic? The word magic indicates it is an impossible unexplainable process but that makes no sense. Is the magical core really a big glowing ball of power in the middle of our chest like George Matthews said in his book '_Basic Knowledge For The MuggleBorn'_? Well? Aren't you going to answer?"

Both Ellene and Harry watched the excited babbling girl in patient amusement whilst Petunia just raised an eyebrow in surprise. Jeff on the other hand smiled at the bushy haired girl. There was a keen mind there though it was obviously untrained or the girl won't be shooting out all these questions like she couldn't help herself. The hardest thing for Hermione would probably be learning to relax. Jeff suspected that staying at Hogwarts would have eventually led the girl to burning herself out as she fitfully tried to discover everything for herself. He made a mental note to inform both the school nurse and her teachers so they can monitor the situation. People like that tended to forget to eat or sleep when they were deep into their research.

"Ok yes Metaphysics seeks to explain magic. I'll tell you what Miss Granger why don't you wait for the end of the first week of school? If you still have these same questions after the first week then I'll make it my duty to provide you with detail answers as well as provide books. As it is, your Magical Theory textbooks will have some of this information. If you decide to do Metaphysics then that will cover the rest of the information. Are you ready to go register?" Jeff said glancing at Harry as well.

"Yes!" Harry answered before Hermione could respond. Once Hermione started it was hard to make her stop. If he let her continue the group would stay here for a _long_ time as their guide answered Hermione's many many _many_ questions.

The group quickly headed out the library, Harry quietly trying to pacify an irritated Hermione. Narrowed intelligent eyes followed their departure before the supposedly sleeping boy got up and lazily sauntered out of the library.

* * *

"Daichi-san."

"Yes Sir?"

"Get me all information on Hermione Granger."

* * *

**Author notes:**

*Sercë Raumo: Blood Storm

I received a very good question about the whereabouts of Sirius so I'd like to reassure everyone that Sirius is in this story. Remus actually went to the school so he is receiving more screen time at the moment but that will soon change.

Now about that scene in customs with Remus:

\- Rest assured that it actually serves a purpose. In this story everything links with something else later on. It'll be explored in the next chapter but the wolfsbane will have a profound effect on Remus. He's been taking the thing the entire time he's been in England and by the beginning of Harry's fifth year this had amounted to two years of constantly taking a potion that's really not good for him. In truth, Remus is not being careless with others safety by forgetting to purge the potion from his body. He still thinks he's fine and in control and that he could simply 'flush it out of his system' on his own with little to no side effects. He's not taking this seriously simply because he hasn't realised that he IS addicted. He has only ever missed one dose and look at what happened. Remember also some of the side effects of long term use.

\- Neither Officer Johnson nor the healer actually care that Remus's contract which occured _in some other country_ required him to take an addictive potion. They could care less about his reasons for having it in his bloodstream. All they care about is that Remus not walk into _their_ country with an illegal potion still in his system.

\- Petunia is a judgemental person. It is a character flaw of which both she and Vernon are very aware of. She is a good person but everyone has their faults and hers is playing judge and jury towards others. She was ready to ignore her nephew when he got his Hogwarts letter simply because she believed that he'd return behaving just like his mother. She has judged all magical people as having no common sense based on interactions with a few. Now she believes that Remus is some sort of drug addict and since he was Harry's teacher then that means many professors at Hogwarts are also drug addicts. If events had not occurred as they had at the end of chapter one then she would have judged Harry as being just like his mother and nothing the child did would have convinced her otherwise.

\- As for Harry...well let's not forget he has 'the power the dark lord knows not'.

New Blood International Academy's design based on this: w w w . globalpeacefoundation / CrystalIsland . html

Please review :)


	5. Chapter 5

**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**

_**Chapter five:**_

_**Reactions**_

* * *

She was _furious_. Body a flushed rouge, heavy, harsh pants, eyes that practically spat angry fire as her hands crept behind her back for the huge weapon attached there. He idly wondered if she was seriously going to attack him for doing something they both knew had been long in coming. He felt a slight touch of irritation. Troublesome woman.

His family displayed a deplorable amount of dislike towards this female. He had never witnessed such a level of silent disapproval as when he chose to date the beautiful blond. His mother's reasons were simple: she found the girl arrogant, rude, distasteful and uncouth. His father's were a bit more complicated: one did not date former enemies, especially an enemy who had been one of the key figures instrumental in the attack on one's home. His cousins, uncles, aunts and even the wild deer on their land hesitated to be in her presence. He was truthful enough with himself to acknowledge that his attraction towards her had always harboured upon the mere physical, and that his laziness was a key reason why their relationship had lasted so long.

"Kagemane no jutsu, successful" murmured the quiet, lazy voice through the clearing.

The raging girl stopped in her tracks, her shadow bond by the shadow of her ex as she was forced to put down her weapon. Using her shadow to control her body, he made her tie herself up to one of the trees in the park, and walked away ignoring the stream of obscenities following him.

He thought his reasons for breaking up with her were rather obvious. It was not his family's disapproval or her former enemy status or even the fact that long distance relationships were a _real_ drag. Unlike his father, his reasons were rather uncomplicated: she was not his intellectual equal and never would be. That was unacceptable. He hated being bored. He was a Nara, and he would have a woman who was his equal or none at all.

* * *

Vernon Dursley. A businessman. A family man of four. A very well connected man, Smeltings had seen to that. It would interest many to know that Harry was not the first magically-inclined person of Vernon's acquaintance. The little one-year old terror's inclusion into Vernon's family found the shrewd man calling up and renewing this acquaintance, and through said acquaintance, growing his network of paranormal associates. That had been very good for business actually though he was very careful none were European. You never knew how far of an arm a man like Dumbledore had.

Enlarging the circle of his magical contacts had greatly reduced the amount of stress of raising a magical child in a nosey mundane neighbourhood. He warned his associates of his wife's uncomfortableness with magic and so many, beyond the reversal of some magical mishap, tended to restrain themselves around the housewife and her children. Eventually even Petunia relaxed enough to tentatively befriend a few of the men's wives, calling up a friend from time to time to ask kindly whether she can pop over for a chat. While they were there the women would (discreetly of course) deal with any magical mishaps that Harry might have cleverly produced. The boy had developed the heinous love for all things shocking-colour orange in his toddler years and his magic kept changing _entire rooms_ to please him. As a consequence of this sensitivity to Petunia, both boys had grown up never knowing that quite a few of the family's acquaintances were of less than mundane origins.

The child hadn't realised just how dangerous the venture he was attempting. Based on the man's behaviour up to this point, this headmaster had no intention of relinquishing the tight control under which the Boy-Who-Lived fastidiously laboured. Vernon was an accomplished businessman and thus had met people like Dumbledore. He realised that the moment Petunia agreed to allow Harry's transfer to New Blood was the moment the Dursleys became an obstacle. Men like Dumbledore made obstacles _disappear_. Vernon was not about to wait around for that to happen.

The attack on Dudley by two obviously magical creatures three weeks later made Vernon realise his caution was justified. The man stood in the doorway of his son's room whilst his distraught trembling wife sat in a chair next to their son's bed and stared blankly ahead. Vernon had never felt more thankful in his life than when all the commotion made him look through the window to see Harry's white owl streaking across the sky straight for whatever that invisible creature was and ferociously attacking it like some vengeful angel. Dudley would live. He would be fine. His soul was still there, the magical police contacted by that Mrs. Figgs had confirmed it. That owl saved Dudley's life at the cost of her own. He would buy a casket and pay for a f-ing funeral for that owl. It more than deserved the respect.

Vernon left the doorway and headed downstairs to call one of these cultivated contacts. He would never know that the report of the attack on his son was burnt and the aurors' memories erased at the order of one Delores Umbridge. Or that two more of these soul sucking creatures would make their way back to Privet Drive a week later. It was time for his backup plan.

No one but their magical benefactor and Harry knew where the Dursleys were so it was with shock and fear that Petunia greeted the DSL man on her new house's doorstep the day after moving in. Signing in all the right places she took the package and placed it on their brand new kitchen table and sat staring at it a good few minutes before she sighed and opened it. A huge pile of file sheets greeted her. At first Petunia didn't understand what she was seeing. The person seem to write all over the place. There were diagrams and cartoon drawings in the margins and formulas placed all over the various pages. Quite a few paragraphs were crossed out and ideas pencilled in. One of the pages even had coffee stains at the edge. She didn't want to acknowledge the handwriting and would have packed it away if a neatly folded parchment didn't fall out of the folder onto the floor. Picking it up Petunia unfolded and read it then started trembling.

Dudley walked into the room sometime later to find a slew of file sheets covering the kitchen table and his mother quietly sobbing. He panicked. His mother didn't cry. EVER. He tried comforting her and asking what was wrong but she was unresponsive. Running to the phone Dudley quickly called his father and informed him of the situation. Yeah his father would know what to do. Assured his Dad would be home soon he hanged up and went back to the table, gently patting his mother's shoulder in a gesture of uncomfortable support. Idly looking at the mass of papers he spotted a piece of parchment near her hand and picked it up. Understanding began to replace confusion as he read on. He pulled up a chair and sat next to his still sobbing mother.

* * *

_**October 31st, 1981**_

_Dear Tuney,_

_We Live, we Love but more than that we LEARN. As I get older I get a clearer and clearer idea of what's important and what's not. I wish I could look back at my teenage self and say: "Hey you stupid self-centered little thing. Don't you know what you have?". I wish I could take back the hurtful words and gestures and that foolish need to fit in with a bunch of outdated bastards whose smiles were as false as their morals. I wish I had listened to you when you warned me about losing myself. I am ashamed to admit I was taken with the wizarding world's supposed belief in its superiority. I should have known better and have no excuse really._

_Sorry Tuney. Sorry._

_You were always the cynical one with a cooler head and far more common sense._

_I've been working on something lately. That's what in the folder. I never told you but I once overheard our parents talking about your ability with blood. Don't worry I never told anybody but I...tuney there's this mad man and he's hunting my family and I'm so afraid he'll come after you. I wanted to give you some way to protect yourself. I know you don't like magic but I thought maybe this is different? It's a medium you can use? Please don't turn this away tuney. You're the only family I have left and it's just us two left you know? Even though we have different last names now we're still Evans and it's Us against the World tuney. I don't want you to die. Please don't be mad. I put up a blood barrier around your house. The notes are in the folder. I thought maybe we could meet. It's...not just a blood barrier. Can we meet? Tuney it started out as a barrier but...read the notes. You've always been so brilliant with numbers. It's incomplete but I think, I think I might be on the verge of creating some sort of weapon. I don't know. A weapon made out of blood? That's not something you hear everyday. With your eye for numbers though and your ability maybe you would see things I missed. Maybe we can meet sometime next week? At that little coffee shop in London you seem to like so much. You know the one with the little blue and red umbrellas and the bald waiter with the gorgeous French accent? You can meet Harry and I can meet Dudley. Maybe we can exchange phone numbers? (Yes I bought a phone. James keeps poking it in fascination. Silly man.) We can make play dates for the boys!_

_Please come tuney. I'll be there every day next week from 2pm to 5pm. Please tuney. Please come._

_From your Loving sister,_

_Lily._

* * *

Dudley put down the parchment and hugged his mother fighting back his own tears.

"Oh _momma_."

There wasn't really anything else that could be said.

Two days later, Petunia once again stood in front of the house that had been her home since she had been married and watched the red haze of binary that surrounded it. She knew she was the only one who could see it. She could always see it but had never taken the time to study it. A bit of morbid amusement affected her momentarily and she gave a soft harsh laugh. Lily had always been brilliant and a bit of an overachiever. This had to be her little sister's greatest work, a solid wall of binary written in her very own blood. A weapon created in a format that Petunia could actually use. _This_ could not be spur of the moment like Lily's letter would lead her to believe. _This_ had to have been _years_ of work. She wasn't sure how she was suppose to feel.

Petunia lifted her hand and touched one of the many groups of binary in the blood coded program. It flashed a sharp array of colours before becoming a stark white and then slowly spreading through out. Petunia breathed out, turning her palm over to glance at the strange symbol which had now appear on it. A rune Lily called it. For all intents and purposes it looked like a small birthmark or strange tattoo. Her eyes prickled and she clinched her hand in a tight fist before breathing out slowly and joining her family in the car. A few minutes later and Petunia stands in front of the grave of Lily Potter nee Evans blankly staring ahead. What was she suppose to say now? Her heart squeezes in regret and her eyes burn but the words are stuck in her throat and practically chokes her and suddenly she's hot and cold and more furious than she has ever been in her life.

What was she suppose to say? How _dare_ Lily do this to her?

How was she suppose to apologize to the dead?

* * *

There were flashes where he was actually aware of what was going on around him. He thinks Jeff came to see him once. Harry too. Maybe the Professor. He wasn't sure. He hoped not. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. They had long since taken him to an empty room where there was nothing he could hurt himself with. They had long before that put him in a magical suppression jacket so he could stop clawing at his skin. Naked except for the jacket and covered in an oily sweat that stank with a rancid odor, he languished in the now bearable level of craving. The intensive itching under his skin continued though. It was better than last month. The uncontrollable shaking and hallucinations had been terrible. He had a dim recollection of crying then, and pleading, cursing, begging, vomiting, promising to do anything...

_He felt humiliated_.

It had since been two full moons he'd been back on Ivor Lonnath. He spent that first moon in a room in Customs enhanced with Were-resistance seals. It was the worse transformation he had ever had. The week leading up had been bad enough but the actual transformation had nearly snapped his mind with the pain. Remus couldn't even remember what he did during the night but the next morning he had been rushed to the Crystal Hospital's emergency room. It seems the wolf, unable to find any living thing to attack had turned on itself. He had almost died. As it was most of his wounds were infected with the werewolf's magic-resisting venom and quite a few had had to heal the natural way. Some were very deep, like the one on his face that went from the right corner of his mouth to the collar bone. That one had to be treated and sown up in the mundane manner and was too close to the artery to be eligible for plastic surgery. Remus welcomed the scarring. It was a reminder to never be so stupid again.

Why had he continued to take the wolfsbane when he left Hogwarts? Heck why hadn't he just pretended to take the potion to begin with? It would have been child's play to just switch the potion to a vial filled with water or something even with Snape looking on. So why hadn't he? And why hadn't he stopped taking the vile thing when his contract was up? There had been numerous reasons, all of them now that he was looking back just mere excuses. The potion had eliminated any pain that normally occurred during the transformation process. That had been a major warning sign. His tutor on Weres had explained that it was essential to experience a bit of pain in the process. Your body was changing it's very shape and even animagi felt slight pain during their transformation process. With wolfsbane, Remus never felt any pain whatsoever. He couldn't understand how he had missed such a vital clue to something being wrong. He could not understand why he had continued taking this potion and why he thought he was fine. He was just lost right now.

The sound of the wards on the door coming down snapped him out from his nightmare recollection and he turned away from the door. He hoped whoever it was went away soon he was in no mood to talk. The Professor entered the room and raised an eyebrow at the back of his wayward student, secretly relieved that the man was finally alert enough to even attempt to ignore him. Remus would overcome this like he had overcome so much in his life and would take from this the valuable lesson of learning who to trust. Experience was the one aspect the Professor couldn't teach his student.

The Professor had known immediately upon reading that letter exactly what Albus Dumbledore was attempting. A headmaster who demands you to take an addictive potion that only his pet potions master could provide you? The Professor won't be surprise in the least if extras were added to that potion to bind the werewolf's loyalty to Dumbledore whilst also increasing the addiction to the drug. The seals in Remus's tattoo had registered and blocked at least fifteen attempts to break into and adjust his mind during the time he spent in Britain. Shikaku had come to see him beyond furious though you would never know from his face. It was his actions at even approaching the Professor with his recordings that was telling. It's not an unheard of method of control and the result was a nice pet werewolf who did what he was told without question. The Professor hadn't been surprised in the least that Remus thought nothing was wrong and that he had continued taking wolfsbane from a potions master who hated him well after the time his contract was up. Neither had he been surprised when Remus had stopped communicating with him, his Clan Head and Jeff around a year of being in Britain. The scan results were rather ominous in its findings: a few more months and Remus's will would have broken enough to start relaying what he had been doing while he was away from Britain. That would have been disastrous, the seals in the Nara tattoo he wore would have executed him immediately.

It was a concerned Shikaku who had arranged that entire fiasco with Customs. It was also he who asked Jeff to inform Remus that his godson sent in an acceptance form, knowing full well Remus would want to pick up the boy. The scanner was actually not even a normal one. After all how many scanners had the ability to scan both mind and blood? Even the healer had been a Nara contact. That this move had led to the discovery of that soul fragment in young Potter-san only cemented the belief that it had been the right call to make. Either way he agreed with Shikaku-san. It was time for the Nara to spread their network into the European Magical World, particularly in Britain. They had ignored the need for too long. Amused, he sat down and patiently watched the back of his stubborn student. The quiet lasted for a good twenty minutes before Remus lost his temper.

"Go away."

"Why?"

No answer.

"Why?"

No answer.

"You know you smell?"

A stream of obscenities was his answer. The Professor was impressed though he didn't think you could do that kind of position with a goat.

"Your vocabulary has improved dramatically. Did you take lessons from a toilet?"

"What part of Leave Me Alone you don't understand!"

"I've left you alone for three months and before that several months while you were in Britain. That's quite long enough bozu.*

The Professor leaned back in his chair, a small smile crossing his face as Remus stubbornly refused to look at him. This was more reaction than he had gotten for the entire three months. _This_ man was the student he knew, not the snivelling, trembling mess that had arrived on the island.

"Tell me why you're here Remus-kun."

"What. The . F..k."

"I'm just wondering why you're here."

"If you don't know I'm not about to tell you."

"I don't see why not."

"Find someone else to tell you your bedtime story you old geezer!"

"Hmm maybe I should. That Customs Officer who brought you in seems like he would tell me. How about that Nurse? You know the one who was the first to walk into your room after your first transformation? She seems like a good storyteller. Or you know what? Maybe I should ask HARRY what he thinks? Maybe he's got some good theories neh? That sounds like a great idea Remus-kun! I'll go do that!"

The Professor got up from the chair and went to knock on the door to be let out.

"Don't." came a whisper from behind him.

Don't. Please. Just...don't."

The professor stared at the man on the floor then headed back to the chair and sat down.

Silence reigned for a few minutes.

"I was an idiot." Came another whisper from his student then he laughed a bit. "I was so _stupid_."

"Why?"

"I suspected he wanted more from me than just someone that knew Sirius well enough to be able to stop him. I suspected something was going on. No. I KNEW something was going on but...I..._wanted_ to trust him. I _wanted_ to believe he was the good man he portrayed himself to be. A good man who just had faults like everybody else. I wanted to believe in my _hero_...the man that let me go to school and championed the causes of the misfortuned and led us into battle against the dark lord."

Remus started laughing, harsh and broken. At the end of it he was in tears. He held his head in his hands as the realisation overwhelmed him.

"_**I**_ did this to _**myself**_."

* * *

Sirius would never tell anyone the sheer level of fear he experienced when he came to, tied up and naked on a bed in a room that definitely wasn't his. It wasn't really the tied up or naked part (he had always been a rather kinky son of a bitch), but the fact that the last he remembered he was in his fidelius protected home trying desperately to stave off the headache Molly Weasley's screeching was creating. They were discussing his supposed missing godson (Sirius was well aware that Harry was busy having the time of his life at another school), and the woman seemed stuck on high soprano throughout the entire conversation. That he was pulling a blank after that memory scared him terribly. Where was he? How did he get here? The ministry won't put him in a bed and if it was the Dark Lord then Sirius would never have woken up at all. Who the hell wanted a piece of him now? More importantly though, how did they even find his house?

The door to his room opened suddenly and he swung his head, staring at the brown haired man in a high ponytail who was leaning on the door frame like he was completely exhausted. He wore clothes that were militaristic in design and fabric choice, and even with his slouch Sirius could see that his eyes appeared sharp and intelligent. Mr. Pineapple Head gave Sirius a bored look, like it was too much of an effort to even look at him. Sirius took a brief moment to feel insulted. He would admit to being a lot of things but boring wasn't one of them.

"Who the bloody hell are you?!" shot out of his mouth before he even thought about what he should say. Sirius felt like banging his head against the headboard at his stupidity. He was already tied up and naked like in some cheesy blues movie, there was no reason to hand complete control over the conversation to the man. He sighed to himself. He had always been an impulsive person; why couldn't his capturer be a woman? Mr. Pineapple Head sent him an amused smirk and Sirius felt like decking the arrogant little shit.

"Hello Black-san, I have a proposition for you."

* * *

The information Daichi-san produced coupled with his own observations only resulted in confusing the brown-haired teenage boy. Hermione Granger was such a multitude of contradictions that he found it difficult to assign her a label like he did to everyone else. She was a genius but lacked common sense, was a complete nerd but could figure skate like a professional, had almost no visible muscle mass yet was one of the leading students in her advanced kickboxing class back in her neighbourhood, was a prude yet kept wearing short catholic-school-girl skirts, and hated her hair yet played with it incessantly. The last two drove him a little crazy actually.

She sat in front of him in Metaphysical Physics and had never once twitched at his blatant heavy-lidded staring even though he knew she was acutely aware of it and it made her uncomfortable. When they met in the halls her eyes slid right over him like he was invisible and when she saw him sleeping in the library she made taking a table far away from him look like an actual absent minded choice rather than a prevention measure.

She fascinated him.

Truth be told so did Harry Potter though he wasn't a girl and didn't insist on washing his hair with coconut shampoo so the Nara could be forgiven for finding the Boy-Who-Lived less interesting than his genius female friend.

Class ended and the Nara heir lazily watches his classmate through his eyelashes as she gathers her things. Today she was wearing baby-pick-me-up-and-f-me boots to go with the short catholic-school-girl skirt. Sex kitten meets innocent schoolgirl meets girl next door. She had to know what she was doing no one could accidentally dress like that. He watches her tense movements and knows she's aware of his...observation. They're the only two people left in the room.

"You know you have lovely skin." he accidentally let's slip.

He could have hit himself. He could feel the blush rising on his face. Unfortunately, his self incrimination doesn't stop him from helplessly tracing her figure with his eyes from top to bottom or stopping especially to stare at the strip of exposed leg on display between the top of the boots and the bottom of that short short skirt. This girl was seriously beginning to make him feel like a pervert but that damn skirt just kept prodding at his hormones. She flushes as well but he's pretty sure she wants to punch him.

He's impressed when she doesn't act on the impulse and actually manages to walk out of the classroom like she isn't trying to run. So very confusing indeed. She was too smart to not know by now who he was exactly yet instead of trying to get into his good books so she could get into the Nara Clan she was actively avoiding him. That was rather interesting actually. A slow predatory smirk graces his face. Women were normally so damn troublesome yet this female...perhaps he would start deliberately putting himself in Miss Granger's way.

* * *

New Blood was effectively Kicking His Ass. It wasn't that Harry was incapable of doing the work or having problems with keeping up. If anything, Aunt Petunia's summer school madness had landed him in the solid middle of the pack score-wise. The problem was he was not used to being middle of the pack. He certainly wasn't used to having to fight to just maintain that place. Most Hogwarts students had unfortunately a rather poor work ethic and this had allowed Harry, who was a bit brighter than the average teen, to cruise his way to better grades than his yearmates.

The wake up call came in the form of a failed paper in Advance Offensive and Defensive Magics class (ODM) which was the equivalent of Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA) at Hogwarts. Except maybe not since he'd never gotten a bad grade in DADA. It was his first assignment at New Blood too. Harry had honestly been shocked at the grade and the teacher's written detailed criticism. This unfortunately included a harsh but truthful comment that he wrote his essay like a work of fiction rather than an argumentative essay. The professor had then magnanimously given seven book titles that can be found in the library and that Harry had better have read before he re-wrote that essay and handed it in by this Friday.

By the end of the first month Harry and books were best friends, coffee was his soulmate and his iphone was the love of his life. He was almost as bad as Hermione whom he suspected sometimes just camped the night in the library, pyjamas and everything. However, Harry refused to give in to the high level of pressure that practically suffocated his classmates, a couple even breaking down into tears, others already withdrawing from the school. Whilst he had never had to work so hard in his life just to maintain grades, he found that he loved the feeling of pushing yourself passed your limits. That was the problem though. He may be going pass his limits but he was still pulling embarrassing grades, for him at least. Harry was used to a certain level of grades at Hogwarts. He liked being at that level and he really had no desire to go from getting top grades to getting lackluster ones no matter that the level New Blood taught at was way above Hogwarts, and that at least half of his classmates were failing outright and would probably not be here come September.

Finally fed up after getting a C in a Magical Theory essay that he worked weeks on, Harry decided to do something that was going to piss Hermione off. He was going to ask for help from the one student that had effortlessly matched and many times surpassed Hermione's grades in every course, much to the fury of his best friend. Considering that Harry saw the guy sleep through every single class without fail he could understand Hermione's frustration and resentment. Of course some of that frustration could be due to Hermione swearing that the guy kept staring at her. Harry wasn't sure about that since he had never seen the Nara even glance in Hermione's direction and as previously pointed out said guy was constantly asleep in every class so how could he stare at her? Harry however, thought better of contradicting a furious, ranting Hermione with logic. That just never worked. Sighing, he placed his books and papers in his bag and tried to think of places he could find Shikamaru Nara.

* * *

Read and review :)


	6. Chapter 6

**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**

_**Chapter Six:**_

_**The Offer**_

* * *

Author N.B: There is some Middle English spoken in this chapter. It was necessary due to the time period the conversation was taking place. The Modern English translation follows directly after it in []. Read which ever one makes you more comfortable. (p.s: thanks for correcting me strfire :) )

* * *

'Tis understood that upon the eve of the Second Crown War of the Forgotten Realms, the High Elves of Ivor Lonnath closed their borders to the outside world and focused within, developing at such an astounding rate that the land and socialscape was unrecognisable within a decade. This state of affairs continued thus until 1082A.D when High Lord Feredin, deciding it was time to learn what went on beyond their island borders, requested from the Kuriyama Clan someone to explore and report on the happenings of the rest of the world. A young, newly wedded couple, the Grindelwalds, offered their services and within two weeks set out on what they considered the adventure of a lifetime.

The Lonnathians were horrified at the reality. People were being actively hunted for having magic by those less fortunate, terrible diseases caused by poor living conditions and a high rodent population plagued humanity, and widespread illiteracy was actively being encouraged by the society's leading spiritual institution.

Then in 1088A.D. Jacque Grindelwald had the extreme pleasure of discovering the badly beaten and bloody body of Salazar Slytherin lying near his and his wife's temporary french residence. He had no way of knowing that taking the former Hogwarts Founder into his home and healing him would trigger a series of events that would change everything.

Slytherin, drowning in bitterness, relayed to the couple the story of Hogwarts and his reason for subsequent abandonment of the institution. The High Elf, for that was what Jacque was, leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. The High Lord had indicated his displeasure with the current treatment of magical users by the mundane population. Slytherin's story indeed cemented the need to be cautious but also the need to do _something_.

"And what pray telleth would thee doth about t if 't be true given the opportunity?"

[And what would you do about it if given the opportunity?]

"I would bar muggleborns from attending Hogwarts, kind sir. Those gents art a security risk to those who practice magic."

[I would bar muggleborns from attending Hogwarts, kind sir. Those children are a security risk to those who practice magic.]

"Thee maketh no sense. The untrained would only reveal thy world coequal more to those not blessed with the gift. Pray telleth, has't thee no other solution?"

[You make no sense. The untrained will only reveal your world even more to those who are not blessed with the gift. Pray tell, have you no other solution?]

Jacque immediately noticed Slytherin's hesitation.

"Cometh on sir out with t. Speaketh what is on thy mind!"

[Come on out with it, sir. Speak your mind!]

"I has't at each moment bethought that muggleborns should beest in a school of their own. Those gents art completely ignorant of our history or way of life. Eke the muggles useth those folk to hunt down our children! I would rather those folk trained but how can we giveth those folk information of our identities then sendeth those folk back to those who misprise us? Tis but common sense to wanteth to protect oneself."

[I have often thought that the muggleborns should be in a school of their own. They are completely ignorant of our history or way of life. Also the muggles use them to hunt down our children! I would rather them trained but how can we give them information of our identities then send them back to those who hate us? It is but common sense to want to protect oneself.]

Jacque nodded to himself. These were good arguments.

"And would thee leadeth such a school? Would thee beest willing to teachest what must beest hath taught if 't be true given a safe environment to doth so?"

[And would you lead such a school? Would you be willing to teach what must be taught if given a safe environment to do so?]

The shocked look on Slytherin's face quickly morphed into a disgusted one.

" The muggles hath killed mine own wherefore would I wanteth to teachest their disgusting offsprings? I would rather killeth the swines and squeeze the red wine out of their maggot spawns until their bastards lay as lifeless as mine own. Those whores mistakes who hath stolen the magic from the bosom of my superior race whilst leading their sires to our doorsteps. Receiveth rid of those folk I sayeth! Receiveth rid of those folk like the plagues that those gents art!"

[The muggles killed my own why would I want to teach their disgusting offsprings? I would rather kill the swines and squeeze the red wine out of their maggot spawns until their bastards lay as lifeless as my own. Those whores mistakes who has stolen the magic from the bosom of my superior race whilst leading their sires to our doorsteps. Get rid of them I say! Get rid of them like the plagues that they are!]

Taken aback, Jacque felt suspicion rise within him.

"What wast thee doing previously that thee got hurt so badly? Surely one such as yourself hath not embraced the unscrupulous?"

[What were you doing previously that you got hurt so badly? Surely one such as yourself is not involved in anything unscrupulous?]

The truly horrendous smile that crossed Slytherin's face answered it all.

"I am simply sharing the feeling of mine hath lost with others so those gents may share in mine sorrow. An eye for an eye Sir. I didst not maketh the rules."

[I am simply sharing the feeling of my lost with others so they may share in my sorrow. An eye for an eye Sir. I did not make the rules.]

Jacque looked into the crazed eyes of a man too far gone with grief and knew what he had to do. For such a powerful man steeped in hatred was only a danger to society. That night Jacque offered Slytherin a cup of wine to toast his many triumphs over the ordeals in his life. Slytherin never woke up.

Though the man was dead, his idea of a school for muggleborns was brought to the attention of the High Lord. It was given some serious thought.

The Grindelwalds continued the perusal of the world outside Ivor Lonnath but as time went on their lack of adaption to the inadequate standards of living resulted in Jacque Grindelwald's immune system finally collapsing. In 1097A.D. he passed away on his way home, somewhere on the streets of London from the notorious Black Plague. His wife, worried, went out searching and found him hours later among the pile of bodies being burnt that day. Legend has it that on very still nights her screams could still faintly be heard upon the night wind.

Juliet Grindelwald refused to return to Ivor Lonnath, citing instead a need to remain close to the place her husband was buried. It was a sentimental need that she soon deeply regretted. Juliet Grindelwald was a most beautiful and well educated woman and thus gathered both lust and disdain in equal amounts from the men around her. Medieval England was no place for a woman alone. When she was finally found by a Kuriyama agent after a long period of no communication she was almost unrecognisable. Gone was the great beauty washed away with harsh use, the pride and culture buried under hunger and regular beatings. Her story would serve to be the catalyst for mandatory training of all incoming members of a Clan. Taking pity upon the woman, the agent immediately offered a clean, painless death for even in her agony Juliet had been unable to muster up the courage to take her own life. She kissed his hands in gratitude. The agent never once gave thought to the pile of ratty, dirty rags in a corner of the room. Ten minutes after her death, the loud squalling would bring up one of the angry men from downstairs.

In 1745 New Blood International Academy finally opened it's doors.

The Grindelwald family line was believed dead until 1885 when an impossible event occurred. At the age of three, Gellert Grindelwald brought the attention of his former Clan back upon his family by accidentally knocking the spirit of his little brother from his body. The event was unprecedented. Third generation and more members were made to re-affirm their Clan allegiance to allow Clan inborn abilities to continue to pass on. The known Clan inborn ability for the Kuriyamas was bloodbending. However, there was one other ability that never made it into any of the books on Clans. It should have been impossible for little Gellert to inherited it. It should have been impossible.

Gellert Grindelwald was a _Soul Bender_.

A Soul Bender was a Blood Bender whose reiryoku had been absorbed into the body's red blood cells, allowing the bloodbending capabilities of the Kuriyama Clan. The absorbed energy however, instead of manifesting in a physical form such as bloodbending, remained in reiryoku form. It was very very rare and no Soul Bender manifested their abilities in the same manner. For Gellert, his ability manifested itself in medium balls of floating, moving spiritual fire. It was a sight to behold.

Perhaps it should now be noted that there was never more than one Soul Bender in existence at the same time. Research had yet to reveal the reason behind this phenomena. This unfortunately meant that a Soul Bender was completely reliant on the documented and instructional books left behind by their predecessors. After confirming his lineage, Gellert and his family were re-affirmed into the Kuriyama Clan and little Gellert began instruction.

Gellert was a brilliant but cruel child. Often times than not his instructor would find him threatening his family into doing what he wanted. The only family member Gellert was ever kind to was his aunt Bathilda Bagshot, a rather obnoxious old hag who refused to accept any of the lad's nonsense. When he turned eleven Gellert's instructor beseeched the Clan Head to send him to one of the local schools in the area instead of New Blood. Gellert had been steadily gaining a superiority complex over the years about anything non-magical and the instructor feared what this cruel child would do on Ivor Lonnath. That September, Gellert began his instruction at Durmstrang Institute where he would remain until his expulsion at the age of 15.

We are now at the point where things get a bit...confidential. For you see in 1897, when Gellert was 16, he met an interesting individual by the name of Albus Dumbledore who harboured a similar mindset of wizard superiority to his own. Not only did the two hit it off almost immediately, but Albus was fascinated and in truth not just a little frightened of Gellert's soulbending ability. The two teenagers made grand plans to go treasure hunting to find the legendary Deathly Hallows, believing that with that power they could command death and rule mankind. But like all such great world domination plans something went wrong. An argument with Albus's younger brother, Aberforth, escalated into a three-way duel, a stray spell hitting and killing Albus's younger sister, Ariana.

Gellert's lack of empathy towards his co-conspirator's plight and Albus's own guilt caused the two to part ways. Many years later Gellert would discover the elder wand and go on to become one of the greatest dark lords of all time. It was a monumental embarrassment for the Kuriyama Clan. The Clan Head hired Nara researchers to find a way to bind the dark lord's soulbending abilities to allow agents to move against him. The day a changed Albus finally gathered his courage to face Gellert was the day the Kuriyama Clan finally slipped Gellert the potion. The Kuriyama Clan swore to never let one of their members become victim to such darkness ever again which is why, just mere hours after the the discovery of the soul piece within Harry J. Potter's curse scar, the war council of Ivor Lonnath had converged to discuss the threat of Lord Voldemort.

"Have we decided on our course of action then?" High Lord Caunion questioned.

He looked at every person in the room, some seated, some standing, each one a Clan Head and not just from Ivor Lonnath either. Voldemort had officially made himself an enemy of every single Clan on the planet by becoming an abomination of magic.

"I believe we have" nodded a tall woman leaning against the cream coloured wall across from him. Nikita Mears: Clan Head of the Kuriyama Clan.

"What about this prophecy? It does say the boy needs to do the deed himself" drolled a lazy voice to his right. Shikaku Nara: Clan Head of the Nara Clan.

"You believe in prophecy Kaki?" came a deeply amused voice near the window. Gene Starwind: Clan Head of the Vongola Clan.

Shikaku didn't even bother glancing at the man.

"It doesn't matter what we think what's important is what this dark lord thinks. He obviously believes in this prophecy so will probably continue coming after the boy. Potter-san will need to be trained."

"Well I'll make sure of that then." The Vongola Clan Head stated with a cocky grin.

Nikita glared stonily at him.

"Potter is a member of the Kuriyama Clan..."

"Not yet he is. Nor has he done anything to be forced back into your Clan so early in his school career. The earliest you can indoctrinate Potter into your Clan is his second year and by then I fully intend on offering the boy a place in the Vongola Clan. He'll be a front-line fighter Niki. The Vongola Clan specializes in that."

Nikita didn't react.

"When Harry Potter has been re-affirmed into our Clan he will have no need to worry about a deficiency in his training. "

Gene found himself intrigued with both the confidence and the truth the statement rang in.

"And how do you suppose to do that?"

A slow, very dangerous smile crossed Nikita's face and Gene was reminded that he was dealing with a master assassin.

"I'll train him myself."

* * *

_**Present Time**_

A black, unlit silver-tipped cigarette laid caressed between luscious, full red lips so graciously attached to a breath-taking face half covered by black designer shades. Following that face was a hour-glass body that was deliciously decked in a tight, short black dress of embroidered leather and with similar accompanying fingerless gloves. Red nails gleamed in the sunset matching wicked red high heeled pumps. Her short, bleached blond hair, the only deviant in it's wildness, blew haphazardly in the wind, whipping against pale, freckled skin with merciless ferocity. She stood in the exact spot that the event that ended her husband's life took place, calm and so very still. How strange to arrange to meet a possible recruit at such a tragic location but she was an unusual woman.

She came to this bridge every year on the same date. It was her own way of mourning, not for his death but for the loss of the life she yearned for. Sometimes she stood here and wondered if she could have done something different, something to stop it all from ever happening. At 55 years she had seen and done enough that her soul would forever be stained and she wondered at times if he would have approved of her methods. For the last thirty-five years she had slaughtered, manipulated and lied to protect the lives of millions. So that the construction worker on Nashton Street can walk down the road and get his coffee. So that the woman on Sinmoor Avenue can go to her modelling job without fear. So that the child who lives across the road can go to school and his mother doesn't have to wonder if he'll come home alive or in a box. It was a difficult job. Humans seem predispose to cause as much conflict amongst themselves as possible. Without the Clan's constant interruption of elaborately obnoxious 'rule the world' plans the human race would probably just be a pile of rubble and some bones already.

She was tired.

At 55 she had no husband nor son nor daughter to pass her legacy onto and grandchildren was only a dream of yesteryear. She needed a successor. Somebody with a similar understanding of duty and the strength of personality to see it through. Someone capable of making decisions regardless of how difficult they were. Someone capable of disengaging his or herself from their emotions yet still capable of retaining their humanity. It was a rather tall order to request from anyone. She knew it which was why she had mentally prepared herself for many more years of blood, death and destruction.

Then it had happened.

For the first time in _decades_ the Evans had found themselves back on the Clan's network. On _Ivor Lonnath_ of all places. Her own grandfather had been among the first group that had been sent to search tirelessly for the family but with communication being what it was back then it had been a difficult endeavour even without the added complication of two world wars.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her musing and she turned to her right to watch the approach of Shikaku Nara and the Kuriyama Clan's first direct recruit from Britain. Even from a distance the quirky, swagger walk was distinctive. Mentally she categorized characteristics based on his body language. A womanizer, charismatic, impulsive, wild with a tinge of natural rebelliousness. Then they got closer and for the first time she could see his eyes. A sense of relief went through her. So this was the godfather, the official one at any rate. She had long learnt how to read people such as he. Behind all the mischievousness and chaos in those grey eyes was a cold harsh hardness that confirmed the Naras' intelligence though she had never doubted them. The Naras were very _very_ good at what they did. Yes this was very good. They were going against a Dark Lord and a Light Lord. Sirius Black was going to have need of that hardness.

"Nikita-chan."

"Nara."

She never called him by his first name. Ever. Shikaku was grateful for it. They were alike in many ways. The lack of personal acknowledgement from her was a nod of respect from one professional to another. His familiarity was a nod that he recognised a fellow assassin. Black looked from one to the other with a raised eyebrow before turning his brightly lit admiration at the body that dress cocooned. Shikaku wondered if he should warn the man that the woman he was leering at was older than him by twenty years and could tear him apart in less than five seconds. He decided not to. In order to avoid being tracked the two had travelled the mundane way. Black had been testing his patience for the entire way here with his incessant question of "Are we there yet?" and repeated renditions of '99 Bottles of Beer'. After putting up with that nonsense Shikaku deserved some retribution.

"Mr. Black..."

"Call me Sirius."

"_Mr. Black _my name is Nikita, Head of the Kuriyama Clan. There's a lovely cafe just around the block from here. Perhaps you gentlemen may like to join me for a cup of tea?"

"Certainly" Shikaku answered before Sirius could continue to antagonise this rather dangerous woman.

Le Chocolat was a quaint looking little thing all decked out in blue with orange plastic seats, orange around the door boarder and a black and white checker floor pattern. In a corner near the blue counter a ginger-haired kitten lay fast asleep and a blonde furry puppy with a curious expression kept getting up and strolling around before heading back to it's kitten friend. The trio sat down in a shaded corner away from the small wooden windows peppered throughout the place. The owner, an old woman named Janette Benoit who was also fondly called Grand-mere Janette by her regulars, brought them a full steaming teapot and three teacups as soon as the company sat without even being signalled. Shikaku made a mental note of this. After enjoying the brew without the aid of conversation for more than five minutes Sirius, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence. Shikaku internally sighed.

"What do you want from me."

Sirius didn't feel like bothering to phrase this as a question. He wasn't stupid. The entire story Shikaku had supplied him with made a few things very obvious to him:

1\. Remus was a very good liar but he had always known this so it really wasn't such an eye opening revelation.

2\. Dumbledore had crossed a thousand and one boundaries. Someone needed to nuzzle that goat.

3\. Voldemort was an even worse piece of shit than anyone originally thought. Big whooping shock.

4\. These people wanted Harry for his Evan roots and wasn't that just surprising?

Sirius was only here because he was Harry's legal magical guardian. If Remus or even Petunia had been legally capable of handling this situation, or Harry had been of age, then Sirius wouldn't even be sitting here. He found he wasn't even too surprised about Remus and his new status. Remus had always kept a lot of secrets, like what happened to him everytime he went home… and even though all the Marauders had been close, the secretiveness had bothered James far more than Sirius. Hence, Remus and Sirius had been closer than Remus and James. Unfortunately, that very same trait had been responsible for casting suspicion on Remus as the death eaters' spy during the first war.

A bitter taste caused by old memories of past mistakes and regrets rose in Sirius's mouth and he slammed the cup of tea down in sudden irritation sloshing some of the contents onto the saucer. To their credit neither Clan Head reacted to the violent move. Nikita daintily set her cup down before taking off her shades and calmly looking at Black. For a moment the direct look threw him off balance.

"You can not protect Harry Potter."

Sirius instantly bristled.

"No, be quiet and listen Mr. Black. You can not protect your godson neither from Dumbledore nor from your Dark Lord. Your ministry has you as number one enemy of the state. You are hunted day and night. Until Nara thoughtfully intervened you were basically a prisoner in your own home. You can not protect Mr. Potter."

"I just need to clear my name..."

"Which is very possible if you can bypass Dumbledore's interference but then what? Who will you turn to for aid? The Order is Dumbledore's domain. The Death Eaters will now hunt you since you will now be in the open. What about the people in Britain? Do you expect them to do a sudden 180 and accept you with open arms? I can assure you Mr. Black that suspicions will follow your every footstep of just how much you paid to escape justice. What about your family's former connections, all dark in nature? Do you believe they will assist _you_ a known proponent of the supposed light? What about your wealth, a wealth your government has been steadily dipping in from the time of your parents death I might add, will it even be enough to provide for you or Harry?"

She sipped her tea delicately before looking directly at Black through her eyelashes with a small gentle smile. It was just a sharp contrast to the harsh words of reality falling from her lips.

"Give up your guardianship to us. We are certainly capable of doing what you cannot."

Sirius stared. This was their angle? _This?_ He knew exactly what Nikita was doing. This was hardly the first time Sirius had witness this kind of manipulation being performed. His mother had been a master at this...this _casual_ statement of her guest's terrible circumstances and inability to negotiate all wrapped up, of course, in the pretty clothing of honeyed smiles and kind gestures. He knew what this was and just because he was a _Black_ he also knew how to get out of it.

He held onto his legendary temper in a firm grip as he lightly tapped into his animagus persona, a salute to the Black family's latent metamorph talent, and smiled at his companions with way too many teeth. He rarely used the partial transformation as an intimidation tactic. James had been the face and brawns of the marauders, Remus the brains and Peter the hanger-on cheerleader. Sirius? Well on one of his few and forbidden trips to the muggle world when he was but a lad, he had stumbled into a bookstore and happened upon a comic series that would change his life.

Because everybody, even the hero, always underestimated the_ Joker_.

He raised his teacup to her in a silent salute.

_Let's dance bitch. _

A bored Shikaku internally startled at the smile. Oh..._Oh_. Was this the reason Remus insisted on being best friends with such an odd goofball? The Nara tilted his head slightly to the side then leaned lazily back in his chair, keenly watching the interaction between the two with his usual disinterested expression and completely hiding the fact that he was re-evaluating Black. He compared what he was seeing now to the information gathered concerning the Azkaban escapee's deceased family. Family of whom he was supposed _oh so very different from_. That cold, calculating family with far too much blood on their hands for civilians, and far too many connections on _both sides _of the wizards' conflict. Shikaku had found that little footnote very intriguing but until this moment was of the belief that Black had been unaware or incapable of his family's political waltzes. That's certainly how the man acted.

How he acted...and wasn't that the most _interesting _thing of all?

* * *

Magical Theory was filled with various pockets of excited discussion after Madame Charter's announcement of their final presentation and only graded assignment of their summer class. Harry loved this class even as exhausting as it was. Instead of desk and chairs, there was one long desk and chairs around it. Harry always felt like he was in a board meeting. In the corner was a small table with an actual coffee machine and tea paraphernalia of which students were encouraged to use. Considering this particular class took place at 3am, Harry was eternally grateful for the kind consideration. There had been other class blocks available at 3 pm and 8pm but both times clashed with two of the optionals he wanted to take and both classes had different teachers. The early time block may sometimes have caused him to fall lightly asleep in the early days, but Harry liked this particular group of classmates and this specific teacher and entertained no desire to change his circumstances. At least he wasn't like Hermione. The only times Hermione's vocal filters were off was in the morning. She had quit this class after the first week for the 8pm class and Harry had given a silent sigh of relief at seeing her go. The girl had been a complete nightmare and just plain _mean_.

Magical Theory was a compulsory class at New Blood. Whilst Madame Charter was an unusually young woman for her trade (in her early twenties), she was so knowledgable and passionate about her subject that any question about her age disappeared within the first class. As a matter of fact, she was the Head Researcher of one of the largest magical research companies in France. Harry had been in awe when he heard that. The 3am time block was actually to accommodate her crazy work schedule. She normally issued a topic at the end of each class and encouraged students to research and come with their own views on various theories. For a class that required so much knowledge it was in truth Harry's most relaxed. Many a time the class spent the two hours just discussing their views on a myriad of theories, sometimes coming up with their own on the fly. Harry loved it.

On the first day they had been handed a class schedule, list of assignments and when they were due and examinations dates. Actually this had been the case with all their classes. Harry kinda liked that since it allowed him to always know what to expect on any given day. This assignment in particular was very important. In order to pass the summer courses a student had to average 88%. Harry looked down at the paper placed in front of him and grinned.

'_Using one of the five largest Clans on Ivor Lonnath as your example, Explain how a born Clan member could receive specific Clan abilities without being blood related.'_

This was going to be so much fun.

Or at least it would have been fun if Harry hadn't the bright idea of teaming up with Hermione so they could work on their presentations together. Why is it he kept doing that again? A week later and an exasperated Harry Potter sat in an empty classroom and just stared at his best friend who _would not shut up_ as she basically vomited everything she knew on the topic. It was a surprising and extraordinarily detailed amount too. He began getting really suspicious as she continued. Why was most of Hermione's information on the Nara Clan (at least 95%) when she said she'll be doing the Sopranos? And why was so much of that information way above and beyond casual research? She must have hit the library in town and possibly every book store within a one hundred mile radius to have gotten some of this information. Why was Hermione doing such hardcore research on a Clan she had already blacklisted because of their Clan heir? What exactly was his over-competitive friend up to?

"Hermione, what's going on?"

Harry's sudden question startled the girl who stopped and glared at him for the interruption. To her surprise he met her glare head on with a fierce one of his own. Harry had become somewhat friendly with the sleepaholic after his advice and grudging assistance helped Harry regain his footing on his grades. Whilst he would never tell her aloud, Harry was of the firm option that Hermione's animosity towards Shikamaru was simply because she was jealous. It was that plain and simple. The girl pursed her lips tightly before letting out a sigh and sitting down near her friend. She was silent for a long time before speaking.

"Harry...have you ever wondered how someone could have a shadow ability? I mean it isn't like other abilities with a basis in elemental manipulation or some sort of shape shifting that has mutated into another ability or anything like that. It's in its own category. Harry, the Nara Clan is the only Clan with that ability. The _only_ one. Other Clans are known for their born abilities either because most of their members are born with it or the members that are born in that Clan with that particular ability are by far more powerful than anyone outside that Clan. So therefore Clans can have members with an ability that may be found in another Clan. But...Harry no other Clan has a member with the ability to manipulate shadows because seriously how could someone actually manipulate _shadows_? Doesn't that just capture your imagination? It's _fascinatin_g! Aren't you curious?"

Harry eyed his friend lost as to where she was going with this as interesting as it all sounded.

"Ok so the Nara Clan is very unique in that their Clan ability is _unique_. Ok...so you're just interested in reading on why this is so?"

Hermione eyes slid off him to look at the desk and Harry had a sudden feeling of dread.

"I may have sorta figured out exactly how it works."

Then Hermione started explaining her theory in detail. Harry's head began aching as his genius friend went on and on and_ on_ about mathematical calculations, metaphysical and telekinetic theories (quite a few of which she actually made up herself), and combining spiritual reiryoku with the physically reiryoku to harvest and control any aspect produced by the body including one's shadow.

"I mean in truth it was a bit obvious once I put everything together. It all just makes sense!"

She looked up at Harry, dark honey eyes shining with her excitement.

"And I even figured out how to move my shadow a bit now! Look!"

She jumped up from her seat and took a deep breath to calm herself before closing her eyes and concentrating. Harry watched in awe as the air thickened with power and his friend demonstrated wandless magic by moving her shadow around her feet in a full circle before letting it go back to normal and the strange energy disappearing. She panted slightly with her efforts and suddenly dropped into her chair looking extremely tired.

Harry stared speechless. Hermione had actually figured out how to make a distinctly Nara ability work for a non-Nara. She hadn't even been here for a whole summer yet! The feeling of dread from earlier came back with a vengeance. He loved Hermione to bits but damn it she had no common sense at times and was far too curious for her own good. Somehow Harry couldn't imagine the Naras being particularly pleased about Hermione figuring out the one thing that made their Clan remarkable.

"You can't go public with this."

The completely obstinate look on the girl's face made Harry just want to repeatedly bang his head on the desk. She was ridiculous. Didn't she value her life?

"Bloody hell Hermione this isn't a joke! You can't go blowing one of the top five Clans' secrets for a school assignment in front of an entire class. There's a reason why they haven't shared a damn tutorial on this ability with the rest of the world!"

The alarm from his phone went off and Harry gave a frustrated sigh both at the sound and at Hermione's stubborn expression.

"Look we'll talk about this later ok? Just don't go telling anyone else. At least let's talk about it first alright?" Harry said whilst stuffing his book in his bag and sending beseeching looks towards his best friend. She waved at him in a shooing motion.

"Oh _honestly_ Harry just go to class already! We'll talk later."

Giving her a grateful but concerned look Harry quickly ran out of the door. Hermione gave a soft sad sigh at the closing of the door before blinking away the stupid tears that had been desperate to make an appearance during Harry's little rant. He was right of course. She had just gotten caught up in the discovery of everything and had desperately wanted someone to share her excitement with. Pushing aside her disappointment she closed her eyes tiredly. Moving her shadow had really exhausted her out.

"You're only this tired because your chakra store is so low" came the lazy voice of Shikamaru Nara as he pulled up a chair next to her.

His voice echoed in the supposed empty classroom and Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin before turning to stare at him with wide, shocked eyes. It took her three attempts before she could speak.

"Chakra?" She whispered her voice nearly failing her again in her shock at the Nara's presence.

"When you mixed the spiritual and physical parts of the power in the body it created chakra. The body tends to store it. In truth most people have chakra but in miniscule amounts. Only the amount necessary for the body to live."

Despite herself Hermione became interested in the explanation before Harry's warning about the Naras flashed through her mind. Hermione swallowed feeling suddenly very nervous of this infuriating boy. Where had he come from? Was he there the entire time? How could he have been there and neither Harry nor herself noticed? Shikamaru slouched in the chair before continuing to speak.

"You're off in two of your calculations and you're missing a couple of sections in your theory but overall you're on the right track."

He threw her a petulant look.

"You really are a most troublesome female."

He truly meant that too. Shikamaru had felt amused at first when he heard Hermione's confessing her curiosity and obsessive research into his Clan shadow ability. She was hardly the first person that had embarked on a mission to figure out how the Nara Clan manage to manipulate shadows. That amusement had quickly changed to shock however when he heard her theories. Then she had actually _demonstrated_ it. This slip of a girl who came from _Magical Britain_ of all backward places and whom up until this summer hadn't even registered on the Nara radar had, in just under two months, figured out how to perform one of his Clan's most treasured abilities? By herself? With absolutely no outside help? The sudden rise of intense **_attraction_** had nearly choked him.

Damn. Double damn. He may actually be in some serious trouble here.

"What a drag" he murmured to himself, slouching in the chair even further.

"Now here's what's going to happen. A contract will arrive at your sister's tomorrow offering you a place in the Nara Clan. Ensure your parents are there as well. It would have gone to your parents' place instead but well going that far is too damn troublesome so at your sister's will do. You'll be there since the contract will require your signature as well. You will sign this contract."

Hermione glared at him completely furious that this _boy_ would attempt to order her around. She stuck her nose in the air and sniffed disdainfully. Shikamaru bit his lip hard to not show his amusement at the snobbish move that reminded him quite a bit of his female team-mate. The two would probably hate each other within five minutes of being introduced.

"I'm not entirely certain I want to belong to _your_ Clan. I'm still reviewing my options. Perhaps I'll get a better offer from some other Clan who will not rudely dictate to me what I can and cannot do…." began Hermione in an absolutely irritating and bossy tone.

Shikamaru, no longer amused, gave her a blank unimpressed stare. Her eyes widened and she stopped mid rant almost paralyzed in fear as she was hit with a sudden feeling of pain, anger and violence. The_ Killing Intent Technique_. He sighed yet again. What a drag to have to need this. Irritating girl.

"_Mendokuse_. You're not going to receive any offer from another Clan. By this time tomorrow the Nara Clan would have informed the necessary persons that you belong to us. You are no longer in a position to negotiate any part of the contract either. You lost that right when you went poking your nose where it didn't belong."

A twinge of guilt bothered him for a moment and he nearly stopped the light killing intent he was aiming at her before roughly pushing said guilt down with the ease of practice. If he allowed the twit, she'd walk all over him and just dig her grave even deeper. Better she be afraid and do as she's told than stubborn thereby forcing him to have to kill her. He raised his right hand and gently stroked her cheek trying desperately not to snort with humour out loud. Never did he think he would one day be applying Nara seduction and interrogation tactics to Hermione Granger. Jeez he had complained and tried to sleep through almost every single one of those troublesome lessons. He slowly trailed his hand down to stroke the side of her neck. Her breath hitched. He leaned towards her left ear and she shivered at his warm breath. The tantalising scent of coconuts nearly undid him.

"Now what are you going to do when given the contract tomorrow?" he whispered slightly increasing the strength of the killing intent technique.

"Sign it" she managed to squeaked out under the terrifying feeling, shaking violently with fear. Tears slide down her pale cheeks.

"Good girl. You see? You do have survival instincts."

He licked his lips, his mouth dry at the feeling of her warm smooth skin. He caught himself stroking the soft curls by her neck in comfort and stilled, a bit baffled at his uncharacteristic behaviour. He withdrew his hand and let go of the technique, causing the horrifying, angry feeling in the air to disappear. He turned away as Hermione desperately tried to stifle her crying.

Letting out another soft drawn out sigh, the heir to the Nara Clan stood up and casually walked to the door trying not to let on how much those tears affected him. Stopping in the doorway he threw a few more words at the trembling mess of a girl in the chair.

"Congratulations on being the first person to have ever been invited to join the Nara Clan before even starting their fifth year of magical schooling. You should be proud."

The sound of her sobs as he closed the door nearly broke his heart.

* * *

Reviews are greatly welcomed :)


	7. Chapter 7

**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**

_**Chapter Seven:**_

_**The Offer: Part 2**_

**_Disclaimer: I own only my original characters. Everything else belong to their respective owners._**

* * *

Shikamaru had been acting strangely. Instead of his typical apathetic laziness his son was known for he was genuinely moody and distant. The change in behaviour was slight enough not to be noticed by most people, even fellow Naras, but Shikaku was not the head of an intelligence gathering Clan without being beyond merely observant. Shikaku's eyebrow rose before saying "Check mate". He is now very curious. He'd just won their weekly shogi game within 30 mins. He hadn't won a game against his son that fast since he was five. Shikamaru snapped out of his thoughts to watch the board in dismay re-assessing all his moves. His father studied him closely.

"So what does she smell like?"

"Coconuts" came the distracted response before Shikamaru's head snapped up as he registered his father's question.

Shikaku smirked as his son turned a brilliant red at his mistake and scowled at him.

"You're distracted."

Shikamaru sighed and gazed up at the night sky, dragging his hand through his hair and biting his lip in hesitation. His father stared in sheer fascination at his son's unusual behaviour. This was getting curiouser and curiouser. Shikamaru finally looked at his father before softly informing him about the meeting he'd arranged for tomorrow and the circumstances surrounding it. Shikaku was intrigued. It had been a long time since an outsider had figured out the mechanics of the Nara Clan's ability. It had certainly never occurred with one so young and with supposedly so little information. Shikaku suppressed another smirk. It had certainly never occurred with one that the Clan heir was interested in. He knew his son way too well. Shikamaru was obviously infatuated and confused.

He was looking forward to meeting the female who had obviously ruffled his son's feathers so thoroughly.

* * *

Ellene Granger, known affectionately by many as 'Sweets', sat cross legged on the expensive black leather sofa with her parents in her rented home on Ivor Lonnath. With her eyes closed, head cocked slightly to the side, she proceeded to listen to her darling little sister tearfully and dramatically wail about her predicament. She noted many things within Hermione's voice besides the anger that their parents didn't pick up, such as guilt or fear. Hermione had a right to be fearful and guilty. As far as Ellene was concern Hermione was responsible for her own situation. Ellene internally sighed and shook her head. Was she the only member of this family that realised the magnitude of trouble Hermione was in? Honestly! Didn't these people read?

"You idiot."

"Ellene!" exclaimed her father throwing her a sharp glare.

Hermione immediately stopped pacing and ranting to stare at her sister in shock. The look of pure irritation and disdain on Ellene's face confirmed that she did not mishear her sharp tongued and highly opinionated sister. Her entire body burnt as she flushed in both embarrassment, hurt and trepidation. Sometimes Hermione forgot that her sister was as brilliant as herself...

Jonathan Granger's mouth thinned in displeasure as he glared at his older daughter. Ellene's lack of tack had always been an issue between them. They were meeting the Nara Clan Head in little more than 15 minutes for goodness sake. Now was not the time to subject Hermione to a tongue lashing! Ellene however, harbour a different view on the situation.

"Am I suppose to feel sorry for you? Am I suppose to hold and rock you and say 'poor baby' whilst stroking your hair? Tell me something lil' sis, when you were happily digging into things that didn't concern you did you by chance entertain even a thought on the consequences for the Nara Clan had you gone public?"

There was no answer from her sister. Ellene didn't honestly expect one. Sometimes Hermione came across as a living advertisment for the proverb 'Spare the rod and spoil the child'. The brat was certainly spoilt! If looks could kill Ellene would have been a melted puddle of goo based on the intensity of her father's glare. She ignored him. Ellene had been one of Donald Trump's best lawyers for a reason. She was nobody's fool.

"SO! How about you tell us where you got all this information? I have to admit I find it rather strange that the Nara Clan just left information lying all over the place. You can't be the only person who wants to know how to perform their signature Clan ability. I mean that's just careless! Tell me Hermione, where can I get _all_ these books?"

Dead silence. The tension in the room was suffocating. Hermione clenched her hands trying desperately not to cry as Ellene's brown eyes practically bore a hole in her head. Ellene leaned forward and whispered:

"Did you by any chance happen to glance at a law book whilst you were frivolously pursuing the rather engaging game of other people's business? I mean you do know what you did is _illegal_ right? "

Katherine Granger massaged her temples as her stunned husband turned his shocked gaze onto his youngest. Surely what Ellene was strongly hinting at wasn't possible? Hermione flinched, avoiding her father's eyes. Realisation to the truth in Ellene's words finally dawned on Jonathan and stared at Hermione like she was a stranger. Ellene sat up, a huge fake smile upon her face and continued in an equally fake high happy tone.

"Well! You've certainly landed on your feet I must say. Inducted into the Clan known for only taking geniuses before your fifth year of schooling? One of the hardest Clans to get into? Well Done! Bravo babycakes! Give the girl an award!"

Ellene uncrossed her legs and started to clap. Hermione burst into tears.

"That's enough Ellene! Kindly tone down the sarcasm please. And Hermione stop crying dear pull yourself together! The Nara's will be here soon. There's no reason for them to know we were arguing right before their arrival!" Katherine finally interjected.

Ping Ponggggg went the doorbell. The family looked at each before fixing themselves to appear collected to these strangers. It was time to find out just how much trouble Hermione had gotten herself into.

* * *

Within five minutes of conversing with Hermione Granger, the Nara Clan Head was convinced his heir had made the right call. Originally, he'd privately been a bit disappointed in his son, believing that Shikamaru had allowed his hormones to overrule his training. Anyone else would have and should have been _dead_. However, now that Shikaku had actually met the little chit himself he applauded his son's commonsense. At least he could be assured that the boy's judgment capabilities concerning Clan issues was uncompromisable, even when pretty females made him think with the wrong head.

It was surprising the girl had escaped the notice of the Nara network. Remus _had_ mentioned her in passing in his early reports but nothing in those indicated the level of intelligence he was witnessing. Someone like this should have really been brought to his immediate attention. The girl was a rare breed among geniuses, closer to Shikamaru's super genius level than his son had led him to believe and far more versed within her own mind than Remus reports had implied. Her explanation of how she had figured out the process for the Nara Shadow manipulation was so abstract and roundabout that Shikaku was only able to follow her trend of thought because of his intimate knowledge on the subject. They were going to have to work on that inability to communicate ideas. They were also going to have to discuss where Granger-san had acquired some of her rare knowledge. Half of the information she was basing her theories on, whilst not really that difficult to obtain and were hardly in the secret Nara archives or anything, were unavailable to the public. You needed to have a keyed in Nara signature to get into the places that harboured those types of books. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed at the girl's infiltration abilities or irritated that a wet behind the ears bint had found her way into his Clan archives and no one had noticed.

You know what tickled him though? The fact that all this was the _raw _version of Hermione Granger. Shikaku narrowed his eyes as his mind raced at the sheer possibilities. What would this pretty, arrogant, nosy and snobbish girl become with a bit of Nara training? She was certainly going to need it if she planned on continuing her close friendship with Harry Potter. Based on past reports on her behaviour at Hogwarts she was going to be right in the thick of things. There were benefits to having a Nara as the best friend of The Boy Who Lived. How had he been left unaware of this?

The purebloods of Britain would have viewed her intelligence as an insult and threat and move to crush her as fast as possible the moment she left the shadow of Hogwarts, and by extension Albus Dumbledore's, protection. They would have been wrong about the first but dead correct about the second. Self-righteous geniuses such as Granger-san always tended to, if allowed, leave their mark on society, whether it be for the good or bad. Self-righteous New Bloods however...she would have probably picked up some cause or the other that stepped all over Magical Britain's beliefs and got herself if not killed, then regulated to as insignificant a ministerial position as possible. Her 'outrageous' ideas and actions would have had no possibility in hell of impacting mainstream magical society and she could hence be watched and controlled. She would have ended up marrying far below her and just settling for a mundane life filled with disappointment and bitterness whilst the ministry held so-called job promotions as dangling carrots.

"...and I figured a way to access the energy so that you don't need hand signs! It was really Ginsin St. Rose that gave me the idea in his book 'Night Watch' where he argued that the shadow is simply another limb that one must learn to move. He was just using it as an example but it got me thinking isn't that an interesting theory? Do you know that book? Isn't it just fascinating the way he compares mental reiryoku to the physical accumulations within... "

She would have been wasted in a place like Magical Britain.

As the girl babbled on another thing became very clear to the Nara Clan Head. Granger-san was in dire need of a Razzer. Most geniuses, including his son, found great benefits with using one. Granger-san's verbal vomit at the moment of every idea she was having including books read or things discovered (quite a bit of which had nothing to do with the conversation), her obvious struggle to just concentrate on only one topic whilst having so many thoughts at once, and her inability to control her desperate need to know everything were huge clues. At this rate she was going to force herself into insanity before she even finished New Blood. This type of problem was unfortunately not unusual for untrained geniuses. Geniuses had far more thoughts at once than the average person but this did not necessarily mean their thoughts were clear or even necessary for whatever they were doing at the time. It was the negative side to having a high IQ.

The Nara Razzer was a small device in the shape of an earring that sent electronic signals to the brain. This device assisted in the thought process of geniuses by slowing down the amount of thoughts the brain processes at any given time. Most Naras, including Remus and Shikaku, only needed to wear one. Shikamaru wore two.

Speaking of Shikamaru…

Shikaku hid his amusement as he glanced in the corner of his eye at his supposedly dozing son who in truth couldn't keep his eyes off of their potential Clan member. Well this was a rather deep attraction. His son normally had better control over his emotions than that. Shikaku had of course also noticed Granger-san slightly tense up the moment Shikamaru had taken up guard leaning on a beam behind her. Points to the girl for knowing when she was being watched with more than casual interest.

Then there was Ellene Granger. That this woman was actually capable of following her sister's thought processes if not the aspects that required indebt knowledge gave him far more precious information than anything else could have. It was also what settled him on a course of action.

_Shikamaru was going to kill him_.

Hermione Granger would become a member of the Nara Clan but not in the way everyone was expecting her to. Shikaku lazily performed a couple hand seals, a scroll suddenly appearing in a small puff of smoke and effectively cutting off the girl's excited babbling. Biting his thumb (and ignoring the Grangers horrified looks) he applied the blood drawn on the Nara crest imprinted on the scroll. Shikamaru was instantly suspicious. A normal Clan member contract didn't require blood level security. What was the old man up to?

"This is the contract allows your daughter into the Nara Clan. To make this ironclad I will be requiring both your signatures and Hermione-san's using this pen. This is called a soul pen and is required when doing Clan contracts. What a soul pen does is tie the persons taking part to the very letter of the contract. When a soul pen is used the contract cannot be broken for any reason outside of death. Both Shikamaru and I will also sign. Please sign where indicated and we'll be on our way."

"Why does Shikamaru need to sign as well?" asked a highly suspicious Ellene. All of her red lights were flashing but she couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong with this scene.

"Three reasons actually. Shikamaru needs to sign both as a witness and my heir. The third reason is that it's obvious that Hermione-san can't to be trusted. She needs a handler" replied Shikaku.

It was a smartly worded answer. The last reason could be seen as actually telling the family what was going on. Of course, they would have to actually know what was going on to understand it. Ellene narrowed her eyes at him. It was obvious the woman suspected something off with the proceedings but did not know enough about Clan law to pinpoint what exactly. His estimation of her went up a couple of notches. Given enough time he had no doubt she would figure out exactly what was going on. He had no intention of letting her...he refused to lose those genes.

"Let me make something perfectly clear Granger-san. Hermione-san has broken a very sacred law among the magical community. I can and will have her executed if you do not sign. Do not make the mistake of believing any of you are in a position to actually argue about anything. Unfortunate for all of you Hermione-san has effectively tied your hands."

A pale Jonathan Granger quickly took the pen and signed where indicated. His shaken wife followed and then handed the scroll to Hermione. She was about to sign when her sister caught her hand.

"Read it first. Never sign anything without reading it first."

"Ellene enough!" cried their father.

Hermione, seeing the frightened looks on her parents' faces, pulled her hand out of her sister's grasp and signed the contract. Shikaku quickly took the scroll and signed his part before indicating his son to come and sign. There was a long moment where Shikaku met his son's wide, furious and defiant eyes. It was no shock he had figured it out.

"_Shikamaru_."

The boy slowly came foreward, looking like he was walking to his own execution. He gripped the pen tightly, seriously tempted to break it. He knew however he would never get away with it. At the moment Shikaku Nara was more than just his father, he was both his Clan and Family Head. Shikamaru closed his eyes and signed the contract. As soon as he was done the signatures on the scroll turned gold. Without being told he made a copy and walked over to Hermione. When she reached for it he instead grabbed her hand.

"_Myhidr_ I'm _so_ sorry" he whispered whilst looking straight into her startled eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he brought her to hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss on her fingers before letting go. Handing the copy to her intrigued sister, he turned around and stormed pass his father out of the house.

"We'll be in touch" Shikaku declared before following in his son's wake.

In the shocked silence that followed the Naras departure, Ellene opened the contract to begin reading but noticed an immediate problem.

"What language is this?"

Glad for a distraction from the tingling of her hand and the dawning look of irritation on her father's face, Hermione looked over at her sister.

"Oh! That's High Elvish! Just a moment I know a spell that translates it to Latin. There's none that translates to English I'm afraid."

"I know Latin fairly well so go right ahead" replied Ellene.

As her sister uttered the incantation, Ellene watched the foreign words change into ones she was fairly familiar with...then nearly dropped the scroll in shock at the contract heading.

"Ellene?"

Turning towards her sister Ellene felt a wave of rage as she realised just how masterfully they had been manipulated.

"Hermione..."

"What?" asked their mother, "What's wrong? Why do you look so angry?"

Ellene gazed at her parents before turning back to look at her sister. A feeling of intense sympathy welled up in her.

"Ellene?" Hermione whispered suddenly anxious. Ellene's reactions coupled with Shikamaru's strange behaviour earlier was making her fairly nervous.

"Hermione...this is a _Betrothal Contract._"

* * *

It was over. He stood, fully dressed with the exception of his jacket, and stared at the murky grey coloured wall of his two month prison in quiet contemplation. He would be lying if he said he was sure where he should go from here. He didn't want to see Harry yet. Not without gaining a hold on his dignity at least. Multiple conversations with The Professor had kept him informed of various events, chief among them the decision that had been made on the topic of Voldemort. The chosen tactic by the war council was a bit distasteful to his palate but his views mattered not for a person who had been so easily duped. People would now hesitate before listening to his possibly tainted opinions. Never had Remus felt more embarrassed about an event in his life.

Footsteps stopped outside his door and once again he felt frustration rise within him at his inability to sense anyone within these walls. To somebody who had been doing this for years it was like covering an eye. He shook his head at his paranoia and laughed softly. You don't get more secure than in a building designed to curb the various abilities of its members. Unless someone had sent an assassin after him for whatever imagined slight he would not be fighting today. He was not prepared for the amused comment said in a familiar low gritty tone on his apparent merriment from his supposed warden.

"For a man chilling out in this dump for three months you sure seem happy."

Remus whipped around so fast he nearly tripped himself. Leaning against the door frame decked out head to toe in black dragonhide was the notorious Sirius Black. Whilst the statement was said with all of Sirius normal acidic amusement, the man didn't look the slightest bit tickled. For a long time the two stared at each other, the atmosphere peppered with regrets, unsaid words and stifling tension. Remus's brain was already in overdrive trying to compute the various reasons Sirius could possibly be standing in front of him. He slowly closed his eyes trying desperately to hold onto his temper when he stumbled upon the only possible one. It was a mostly unknown fact (only between the two of them) but Remus was the more hot tempered of the two, far more spontaneous and honest in his reactions than Sirius. It was part and parcel of being a werewolf. In truth, quite a bit of Sirius's behavioural responses were contrived to receive and control the reactions of those around him. The man was a natural manipulator...or rather, the man was a _Black_.

"Harry?" Remus finally asked as he re-opened his eyes and stared at his still quiet, grim looking friend.

"Harry."

Remus nodded and picked up his jacket from the chair.

"Where're the bodies and where we burying them?"

That question. That essentially was the heart of their entire friendship. They both remembered that cold December day when a still 15 year old Remus had accidentally gotten loose into that muggle town near his old home. He'd come to him the next morning naked, dripping with blood, mud, and water, and looking terrified. Sirius had listened throughout the entire sobbed and rather morbid story before realising something. Remus had come to him. Not James who lived much closer to the scene than him. Remus had come to _him_ and it had hit Sirius then that this blubbering werewolf in front of him had been the only person who had bothered to see beyond the surface.

_This_ is what James never understood about Sirius. That all his grins and laughter was only a constructed mask hiding a depth of icy efficiency and cold blooded cruelty that quite frankly would have probably scared his good hearted, morally upstanding friend had he known. Even the sorting hat had missed it, instead only identifying the impulsive hotheaded version of Sirius that everyone knew. It wasn't to say that this version of Sirius wasn't real, it was very much a part of him. It was simply that there was more to him than just his surface personality. Sirius had waited for Remus to finish before calmly asking the question:

"We burning or burying them?"

To hear such a similar sentiment repeated to him so many years later...Sirius finally smiled.

Yeah. He and Remus? They'll be fine.

Neither noticed the shadow underneath Remus's chair slightly flicker.

**.***.**

Shikaku leans outside the false window of Remus's room, casually using a basic chakra technique to remain stuck to the side of the building. The shadows hide the slight curve of his lips as he uses the shadows inside to observe the meeting of his Clan member and the new and rather interesting member of the Kuriyama Clan. Shikaku would forever be grateful to Black-san for the rare entertainment of a flustered and confused Nikita. From beginning to end the dance had been an utter delight to watch. It had also confirmed his theory that the Black Lord was dangerous. Letting go of the chakra, Shikaku detaches himself from the building and gracefully free falls the 200ft to the ground, landing with only a whisper of a sound and a slight displacement of dirt to tell of his presence. Taking out a cigarette he uses a burst of chakra to light the end before taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the tobacco, his eyes closing with pleasure as the effects hit. Opening his eyes, he blows out the smoke from his mouth as he looks up into the night sky at the stars thoughtfully.

The interaction between Black-san and Remus-kun was so...fascinating.

* * *

Petunia, struggling with the bags of groceries from the car, stopped short at seeing a stranger standing next to her door. She was a rather pretty woman with short blond hair, tight black leather clothing, red lipstick and red shoes.

"Petunia Dursley nee Evans?"

Petunia frowned and tensed. Who was this woman?

"Yes?"

A smile crossed the woman's lips.

"My name is Nikita Mears. I believe we have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his overly cushioned chair with a sigh. He frowned as a stabbing pain flashed sharply in his head and his eyes burned from being awake at such a late hour. Yet he couldn't sleep, not until he'd figured this all out. The cause of the headmaster of Hogwarts present distress lay innocently upon his desk in front of him. A harmless yet unusual letter with a very harmful message. Minerva Mcgonagall, his deputy headmistress, had been besides herself when she had discovered it upon her desk and had made haste in alerting him to the worrying contents it held. Needless to say, the esteemed headmaster had employed a worldwide search in order to find and bring back his wayward student and his bothersome relatives.

It was to no avail.

Stroking his long beard in deep contemplation, Dumbledore marvelled at the sheer level of daring that accompanied the move and from the most _unlikely_ person. He had clearly underestimated.

A withdrawal letter from Hogwarts for one Harry James Potter.

What did Petunia Dursley think she was doing?

* * *

A bit short but oh well. review :)


	8. Chapter 8

**NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY**

Disclaimer: I own only the original characters in this story. All other characters belong to their rich owners.

_**Chapter Eight:**_

**A Glance into the Looking Glass of a Hero**

* * *

**Personal Journal: Harry Potter**

**One week into Summer School at New Blood International Academy**

_I have always been lazy, a bit self-centered and stubborn. I'll admit that much. New Blood is especially hard for me because it demands from me far more effort than I want to give. It has only been a week yet I've spent the short time I've been here second guessing myself. The workload is truly frightening and stressful and I am not Hermione. I do not live for knowledge and the random moments of sniffing new books._

_It has only been one week yet ADOM had become my most depressing class. There are times whilst lying breathless on the ground covered in blood, mud and welts from my class of the day did I wonder what was I doing? Why the hell should I care about a world filled with hate and ugliness? Why was saving these people so important to me?_

_I am no hero._

_I've hated so many people in my short life. My 'friends' at Hogwarts would have been shocked at my true thoughts of some of them. I have always been amazed by how easily people accepted this mask presented to them on a platter of humour, innocence and charm. Do you truly believe that the melted plastic smile built on guile and caution is real? Is that why you wait for me to save you?_

_I'm no hero._

_I am no hero._

_The day I arrived on this island I found out that it wasn't enough that my scar was possessed by a piece of that freak's dirty soul but that there was an actual prophecy made about Voldemort and myself. Apparently unlike Dumbledore, the Customs people here had no reservations about giving me bad news. At least they sealed the thing._

_Is it selfish to have these thoughts?I don't want to save them. I don't love them. I don't even like most of them. I want to live my life without these verminous insects pestering me. I want to make ripples and splashes not waves._

_I am not a hero._

_I will deal with Voldemort because I have no choice. It's not to save you bastards it's to save myself. I detest him for forcing me into this position, I detest you for accepting it and I hate myself for being too weak to say no. Why is it so hard to remain a bystander? Can't you see I'm not waving but drowning?*_

_I'm not a fucking hero._

_I'm not._

_But I **am** an Evans._

* * *

She was sharp, cynical, cold and calculating. She had absolutely no training as completely evident by the lack of consciousness of body movements and the way her guileless questions gave away her greatest secret. She should not have noticed the runes floating around the property but she did. She should not have gravitated to and be fascinated by the blood fed fish in the aquarium yet she was. Every single item in this place was geared towards identifying a member of the Clan with their unique abilities. The special reiryoku pulled at them, different items identifying various levels of strength of the person. That she could feel any of them at all should have been as impossible as the Gellert Grindelwald's situation. Unprecedented. Nevertheless, Petunia Dursley nee Evans was a _Blood Bender_. A mundane, with not a drop of usable reiryoku was an untrained Blood Bender and apparently a _prodigy_ at that.

What. The. Hell.

Nikita studied the thin, blond-haired woman as she unknowingly touched every single piece of furniture created to be in tune with a Blood Bender. _Remarkable_. The question now wasn't whether Potter's aunt would agree with the scheme concocted by Black and herself (admittedly hashed out amidst mild insults and backhanded compliments), but rather what to do about Petunia herself? An untrained Blood Bender could not be allowed as they were a danger to society and themselves but how was this flower named mundane supposed to be trained? Nikita could practically taste the sheer level of potential within her aura but that same aura confirmed Petunia's lack of magical abilities. Why? Damaged coils? Too thick almost syrupy reiryoku? What was wrong damnit! Without magical abilities how was a mundane suppose to survive bloodbending training?

She would have to implement new training methods to get around this problem. This was completely uncharted territory. Mundane members were normally trained in non-magical aspects but only magical training was available for teaching bloodbending. What to do?

* * *

It could not be ignored that Magical Europe practiced an interesting form of xenophobia towards anything mundane, a strange belief that anything that did not involve the use of magic was inferior and hence a supreme waste of time. As a result, the physical form of the average European Magical was so abysmal by age 30 that most physical activities took them almost three times longer than their Mundane counterparts. And whilst it was only discussed in whispers and never among _polite_ society, there was a rather glaring byproduct of European Magicals supposedly bluer blood perception upon their population.

It was expected for most incoming students to struggle with the physical aspect of Advance Offensive and Defensive Magics, especially the European based ones. Professor Combie was used to having to build most of his students' physical forms from the bottom up. It was rather fortunate that most of his European students were of Mundane background and hence had experienced physical education within their primary schools before attending a magical academy. Even so, after four years of only a minority engaging the use of a broom as exercise, and the majority classifying walking to class as their major exercise of the day, the children of European Magical heritage were almost always the least physically fit.

Furthermore, prospective students originating from the western countries, all shared a similar peculiar response to hostile situations which seemed more designed as villain comedy relief than to protect themselves from real attacks. How can one define true defense as the process of uttering an incantation of some sort and_ then standing still_? The logics were completely lost on Professor Combie. No enemy in a real fight would be kind enough to remain stationary and allow you to hit them except in sparkly short skirt animes like Sailor Moon. It was quite baffling.

Harry Potter in particular kept repeating this mistake over and _over_. The AODM professor sighed as the Boy-Who-Lived was yet again knocked unconscious.

Harry Potter was in great danger of failing this course.

The course was divided into three parts: Theoretical, Magical and Physical. The Theoretical part dealt with strategy, review of historical battles, ethical dilemmas, determining the thought process of past great fighters, and philosophical war debates.

The Magical part included mental and muscle memorization of various magical responses based on situations. This is where a lot of students struggled as it introduced completely different ways of accessing, molding and executing reiryoku. Hermione Granger, to Professor Combie's lack of surprise, **shone** within the class when it came to following instructions and was the first to access and execute any new technique shown. She also performed remarkably well when it came to creating combination/chain attacks. However, this top performance did not extend into recovering and adjusting her attacks when those chains were broken or blocked. No that top place belonged to Potter.

Harry Potter's creativity and fight instincts placed him in another class completely from his classmates. Rather than putting together specific chain attacks, Potter's fighting style relied almost solely on his instincts and hence he focused on increasing his repertoire of spells instead whilst letting his instincts decide what combinations was appropriate for the situation. This was normally advised against as in the heat of battle the possibility of going mentally blank and falling back on muscle memory were extremely high. The fact that Professor Combie was letting Potter do things his way was an indication of just how good Potter's magical fighting instincts were. It was a unique quality that many couldn't hope to pull off and made Potter highly unpredictable to any opponent. It was most unfortunate that Potter did not fare as well in the physical aspect of the course.

The Physical part of AODM required a student to demonstrate a level of physical fitness that Potter seemed unable to grasp. In this section the student is given a high amount of physical conditioning as well as taught martial arts. The intention was for the student to eventually study a large amount of various styles. They can then pull from these styles to create combination chains and come up with personalized fighting styles that would compliment their magical battle techniques. This is where Potter's weakness became apparent. As ironic as it may sound to some, the quidditch darling of Britain's top magical school was struggling with just gaining muscle (probably because he hated exercising and only did it within the class), got breathless much quicker than the rest of his classmates, suffered physical injuries far quicker as well and had developed the rather strange habit of standing still and announcing loudly to his opponent what attack he was going to hit them with even after constant lecturing. As a matter of fact, it became apparent that the more he was lectured for it, the more Potter continued to stupidly stand still and shout. It was getting beyond ridiculous. Professor Combie wasn't sure if the boy was just hard of hearing or this was some bizarre form of teenage rebellion.

Then there was the fact that Potter had developed the interesting though useless habit of practising with Nara outside of class. Shikamaru Nara was a well trained Clan heir who was on his last year of New Blood after only one year of study. He was also an unsurprisingly terrible tutor. This was due mostly to the boy's own lazy nature, his early schooling, his natural brilliance, and his extensive Clan training. Unlike Potter, Nara's primary education took place at his village's training academy of which graduating exams took place at 12. The children were placed into teams of three with a personal tutor normally of a much higher rank and of some years of experience until they had passed the second level of their exams. They are then given minor leadership responsibilities over either those at a lower level than themselves or their peers until they passed their third and final test: the Jounin exam. This was the highest level one could achieve without becoming the leader of their society.

Shikamaru was a super genius 18 year old war veteran at Jounin level who was only at this school because he needed to round off his education as the heir of his Clan…

What Potter needed was someone who possessed the talent to teach and was capable of explaining things in a simple and clear manner so he could understand exactly what to do. Things came far too easy to the Nara boy for him to ever be a good instructor to anyone not on his intelligence level. Nor was he a good measuring stick for Potter at his current level. If he could he would have taken Potter on since the boy certainly possessed tremendous potential as clearly demonstrated in the reiryoku portion section of the course. Unfortunately, professors were not allowed to provide that kind of guidance to potential students. The entire summer course was an unknown part of the entrance exam. The ability to work things out themselves was a key ability in surviving New Blood's harsh and hectic curriculum.

* * *

The first day of the week of the entrance exams Harry awoke with an extreme feeling of nausea. Harry dragged himself from bed and proceeded to get physically and mentally ready for one of his hardest weeks academically.

Thankfully, the exams weren't as bad as Harry expected. He managed to actually finish every exam within the time allocated and believed he gave a good accounting of himself. However all good things come to an end and on Friday came his final exam: AODM exam.. Harry headed towards the classroom barely aware of his surroundings. Failure of this particular course was not an option..._what to do what to do_…

The morning focused on the Theoretical part which Harry felt rather confident he passed. There were some tricky questions but he was sure his answers covered at least 80% of the required knowledge. With the afternoon came the section of the exam Potter truly feared. The afternoon exam was a combination test, that is, it combined the Magical and Physical sections. The first section of the exam reminded Harry of the Triwizard obstacle course. Only difference is at the end of this obstacle was a duel. The students would be duelling anyone from the Professor Combie's class that was already attending the school. Selection was completely random. Professor Combie started off by explaining that every section of the course examined a certain level of knowledge. Students automatically receive 50% if they make it to the halfway point. There are ten yards after that with every five yards equalling 5%. The duel is worth 40% with every thirty seconds equalling 10%. The prospectives will be duelling one of ten chosen New Blood students.

Having gotten through the obstacle course without too much difficulty though his muscles hurts and he was badly out of breath. Nevertheless, the AODM professor handed Harry a number and showed him a door that lead to a wide outdoor arena. Upon arriving, Harry noded slightly to his waiting opponent and smiled even as he gave an inward sigh of relief. It really was quite a bit of luck to have landed Shikamaru Nara as his opponent. No one had really seen the Nara's true fighting abilities but what little the boy had bothered to show him didn't reflect his lazy attitude. Now that they weren't training, Harry could actually show what he'd be learning since he got here.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at Potter-san's smile before yawning dismissively. In the corner of his eye he spotted Hermione Granger's truly ugly glare aimed at him through a doorway and nearly moaned out loud in utter agony. He seriously should deal with this situation soon. Oh he had tried to talk to the girl but she made sure to stay in dense crowds and to dutifully send existence-destroying glares his way every chance she got. Truthfully, the crowds or glares wouldn't have stopped him if he was determined but Shikamaru was a master at reading emotions. Under all her abundant rage and disdain was a stark, raw fear of him and what he could do to her. She had actually stopped visiting her usual haunts and had changed her appearance to huge downy skirts, an old outdated sweater so ugly that he could barely look at it, over-sized cheap pearls, huge glasses, an over-sized carpet bag and incredibly bushy hair powered with some sort of grey chalk-like material and combed out into a frizzy curly cloud. She looked like a damn grandma! And where on earth did this chit buy boiled cabbage scented perfume? When he first spotted her attempt to 'un'attract him he wasn't sure if he should be amused by the whole ridiculousness of this situation or highly insulted by the gesture. Wasn't he suppose to be some sort of great catch or something for females? Especially Clan-less females? Shikamaru sighed softly. He had no wish to increase her fear of him any further and for the first time in his life was unsure how to fix a problem. Ah well, at least he had had the pleasure of watching his mother roast his father alive over this. The old man deserved it.

Leaning onto his left leg, the Nara placed his hands into his pockets and settled into a slouch. Such a warm, lovely day that one really couldn't even complain about the lack of clouds. The gentle, cool breeze more than made up for it. Really could the day get any better?

_**He barely dodged it**__._

The wide-eyed Nara stayed in his crouched position at least a good one hundred feet from the massive crack in the ground. His eyes narrowed and his senses sharpened as he stared at the supposedly weakest student in his beginner AODM class. This was interesting. This had never shown up in their 'spars' for lack of a less insulting word. Potter-san stared back with a blank face. A strange blue reiryoku covered the boy's torso in sheer chains almost like a vest armour. There had been no hand seals or wand waving or any indication of an attack before a flash of lightning had streaked across the heavens and down from non-existent clouds. Shikamaru blinked and stood up ignoring the shocked gasp whomever it was had been unable to hold back. Heh, apparently he was suppose to take this 'battle' seriously. Potter-san was going to regret issuing any kind of challenge.

Harry's greatest weakness was his physical capabilities. He was aware of this and his class was aware of this and he was very sure Shikamaru was aware of this also. What they were unaware of however were the measures Harry had put in place to counter this weakness. The Boy-Who-Lived had meticulous layered and weaved powerful shield spells together using the chain method he had been taught and his own instincts. Every day for the last two months he had gone through an hour of casting and weaving with an astounding level of concentration. What was created was live charged magic so concentrated that it had literally created a visible chain vest. The entire thing was grounded by the spell in the silver buckle on the belt around his pants. This vest he wore today...

Shikamaru's lazily generated water bullet infused with chakra in each particle tore through every last one of Harry's chained spells.

The Nara calmly cleaned his ear with his pinky nail as Harry proceeded to cough up a lung.

"I could have been fried" came the flat, dull voice over the loud hacking.  
"You were ignoring me" came the chocked response.  
"Hmmm."

Harry dragged himself off the ground and wobbly stood up from his fit. He wiped his soaked hair out of his burning eyes. His nose, eyes, throat and chest burned and he felt light headed.

_45 seconds had passed._

Shikamaru impassively watched his opponent's heavy breathing. Maybe he had over-estimated? The teen was only a beginner afterall. Then Potter-san breathed in and spat out a bright blue ball of raging fire, once again without performing any hand signs, wand movements or uttering incantations. The Nara frowned at this even as he moved to dodge and carefully filed the curious fact in the back of his mind to be examined later. He casually moved out of the way of the ball of fire...then had to hit the ground two seconds later as it recoiled and nearly slammed into his back.

Harry grinned as Shikamaru spent the next couple of seconds dodging his fire. He was rather proud of his yet un-named invention. It was something he had stumbled upon whilst figuring out his chained shield. Actually, he couldn't explain how he did it. It had always baffled Hermione how he did these seeming impossible things. Actually, the girl was more annoyed that a lot of the things he did went against the theories in her books than at the actions themselves. All Harry himself figured out was that it wasn't really fire but a ball of reiryoku on the outside and some sort of ice on the inside. The ice was a strange gold colour. Harry found that if he willed it hard enough he could attach a tracking charm to the ice whilst it was in reiryoku form. As soon as it hit the air the attack took shape with the middle hardening into ice. It would not stop attacking the person unless he willed it.

_1 minute and 30 seconds._

Tired of playing, Shikamaru decided to end this little charade. Potter-san had passed his examination so Shikamaru could now go home. His good deed for the day was done. Performing hand seals faster than the human eye could follow, Shikamaru created a rain cloud directly over his unsuspecting victim's head. It was a mostly useless E-Rank jutsu but it casted a rather nice shadow and connected most of the other smaller shadows and Potter's own shadow to it. Closing his right hand into a fist, he mutter the phrase "Yin no Jutsu" and watched with satisfaction as the shadows completely covered Potter and became opaque, placing him in a world of cold and darkness. The cold would lure him to sleep almost immediately. It was his simplest, most painless technique.

Which is why Potter's blood curdling scream completely baffled him.

Harry didn't understand what just happened. One moment he was standing across from Shikamaru and watching him dodge his attack and the next he was blind and deathly cold. Then his confused mind went to another place and suddenly he wasn't at New Blood taking his exam. He was deep in a forest late at night with Sirius lying unconscious on the ground behind him and literally hundreds of Dementors were covering them and it was so cold and he couldn't see…

In sheer confused panic Harry turned his mental request for help inwards…

and _**it**_ answered.

Concentrated reiryoku strongly coloured in gold ripped itself out of his pores of it's master's body and dutifully took on the form of a deer. Prongs. The newly created Prongs ripped apart the shadows covering Harry in one fell swoop before turning on the one who had created them. Halfway to deliver judgement the magical construct suddenly fell apart and Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head before he passed out.

In the silence that followed Shikamaru just stood still and stared wide-eyed at the boy lying face down on the ground. Then he stared at the spot where the giant gold deer had disappeared leaving deep hoof prints where it ran. O….K..._what the actual fuck_?

* * *

When Harry awoke two days later he didn't really remember the last part of his AODM exam though Hermione informed him in detail. He sighed. Must he do something weird in almost every defense exam? Ah well, at least he had passed. He had already been handed his school schedule including the optional courses he had chosen. A small joyous smile crossed his face. He may not be able to control his fated clash with Voldemort but at least he could control what type of schooling he got. He was so glad proper school started in three days.

* * *

The silence was almost oppressive in the small study that held Nikita, Sirius and Remus. Shikamaru Nara had taken upon himself to liberate the school of it's video footage of Potter's exam and dutifully gave it to his father. If she had not been on a mission at the time Nikita would have been given this footage immediately instead of two weeks after. The sheer implications...if Shikaku's suspicions were true...

It was Sirius that whispered the question after the recording ended. It sounded almost like he had shouted in the quiet room.

"What just happened?"

He looked over to a shocked Remus and a very pale Nikita. Dread turned his stomach. He turned to her and demanded softly.

"I asked what THE FUCK just happened?"

Nikita looked at him not sure what to say. She knew what happened but she could hardly believe it. This was not possible! She swallowed slowly.

"I...know how Harry defeated your dark lord that night."

"What!" came the stunned simultaneous responses of Sirius and Remus as they whirled to face her.

As Nikita opened her mouth to start her explanation a strangely coloured bumblebee flew through her window and position itself right infront of her nose. This was ofcourse no cause for concern. What sent chills down her spine however was the light mocking voice that emitted from the insect.

"_Ms Mears. A word if you please._"

* * *

_**BACK IN ENGLAND**_

* * *

Despite the worldwide search for Harry Potter by the Order of the Phoenix, on the 1st of September the Boy-Who-Lived did not board the train for his fifth year. He did not meet any of his 'friends' and walk into the grandhall in a tight knit group laughing at one of Ronald Weasley's rather tasteless jokes. He did not engage in his yearly run in with Malfoy and his crew. He did not return to Hogwarts.

**Pandemonium ensued.**

* * *

McGonagall leaned back in an intricately detailed yet highly uncomfortable victorian styled chair. As she lost herself within her thoughts she tapped an opened muggle envelope which had been the casing of a rather sleek modern-looking letter politely requesting two of her former students transcripts. It was a letter she had become very familiar with over her years as Deputy Headmistress. It's presence never failed to produce the same level of sadness each time and evoke the same traitorous thoughts: was Hogwarts lacking?

Every year at least one of the muggleborns or muggle raised left Hogwarts to attend some strange school with a name written in some weird language that nobody had ever heard about. What happened to them afterwards she never knew even though she had tried to contact a few of the students she had been fond of. Their families wouldn't say anything about the school either, but had always been kind enough to assure Mcgonagall that her former students were happy, healthy and enjoying their studies. This more than anything had ensured the old bird not demand more information for as an educator and lover of children what more could you ask for? Even so, she had still tried a few times to contact them and it always hurt just a little when her letters came back unopened. She had even asked Dumbledore countless times about this school but the Headmaster never seemed too interested in finding out information since really it was only one or two Muggleborns that tended to leave. Mcgonagall continued to tap the letter on her desk and pondered if this time Dumbledore may truly be interested in finding this about this school now.

* * *

The Dark Lord who had styled himself the name Lord Voldemort found the reports from his spy rather curious. So, Album Dumbledore had lost his little boy soldier. Tisk Tisk Tisk. A grotesque smile crossed the snake like face. _Tisk Tisk Tisk_.

"Lucius" he whispered looking at his most loyal Death Eater.

"Find me Potter."

* * *

Dumbledore walked behind the prison guard down the shadowed corridor and wondered if he would truly get any real answers today from a man who had more than earned the nickname 'Silver Tongue'. This was probably just a waste of time to be honest but Dumbledore had exhausted all other available avenues and resources. Between the two of them this man had always been the one with the more obscure knowledge.

The scene upon arriving at their destination would forever be carved into Albus Dumbledore's memory when he thought of this man. Looking decidedly less than prison-looking, Grindelwald calmly sat reading a newspaper and in obvious general good health. The floor of the room had been covered in lush carpeting. His cleanly shaven face played host to a pair of lovely silver spectacles which had been perched daintily upon the nose. Sitting crossed legged in a beautiful leather black chair the 'prisoner' was clothed in this soft shimmering looking...something which had been coaxed somehow into forming a robe like shape. Grindelwald looked more like a gentleman of some distinguished background that was perhaps a visitor himself rather than one of the prisoners. He certainly was a rather far cry from the pictures of Sirius that had been plastered all over Diagon Alley and Dumbledore found himself suddenly pushing down intense anger. Were the prison bars just for show? To witness the obvious extent to which Grindelwald's influence stretched... if the wizard's very soul wasn't tied to this building Dumbledore was under no illusion that he would still be here. Grindelwald looked up from his newspaper and to Dumbledore's supreme surprise smiled. The guard had disappeared.

"Ah Good day Albus Good day! Yes yes haven't seen each other in a long time have we? Are you here to find information on the whereabouts of your missing golden boy?"

Dumbledore immediately tensed. What? _What?_ No one had been informed about Harry's disappearance outside The Order. NO ONE! Gellert look amused at the furious look on Dumbledore's face.

"Oh come now Albus it is quite interesting pondering how a baby survived a killing curse. It's rather curious. I'm a very curious person."

At this Albus Dumbledore's renowned patience finally snapped and he whipped his wand out pointing it at his once best friend.

Gellert's eyes narrowed and studied him.

"I am not your enemy Albus, not this time."

Getting up he turns away, walking to look out the artificial window. Silence fills the overly warm cell until Albus becomes uncomfortable. Suddenly Gellert speaks.

"The school that has dared to snatch your little massiah goes by the name of New Blood International Academy. They are an elitist school. Don't bother to ask me where it is that information is only available to certain individuals neither of whom you are acquainted with. The school caters strictly towards what they call new bloods and mundane-raised simply because they have the educational foundation necessary to succeed. The Clans rarely take members that do not attend this school. Only the best of the best get in and only the greatest of those best will make it to graduation. The rest will either fail out or leave unable to cope with the level of stress. The school has a flaw though."

"A flaw?" Albus repeated intrigued.

"Yes. Think of it! They teach _everything_. The school is open around the clock, 365 days a year! Albus this school is the stuff of _legends_, the ultimate school! I don't have much information but what I do know makes the three supposed great European Magical schools seem more like a joke! Almost every child that can get through their time at NBIA will emerge at the top of their field and will be accepted into the great CLANS, the creme de la creme of magical society! So tell me Albus...why does New Blood International Academy only accept those raised within the muggle world? Why do only those children receive acceptance letters? Come Albus certainly you can see the problem here? Why must other schools cater for both muggle born and raised alongside their magically raised students whilst this school gets away with isolation..."

...and _discrimination_."

Turning around Gellert gave his old friend a serious look. Albus sat up with the sudden realisation. Egards! But Gellert was right! Gellert sat back down in his chair and folded his hands.

"There you are Albus. There's your weakness in that solid vest of armour. Who's to say that if given the same information, the same opportunities, the same instruction that a magically raised child would not produce the same outstanding results as a mundane raised one? Magically born and raised are not less intelligent so why are they excluded? It's one thing to have a set of knowledge requirements that students must meet in order to attend but to completely deny a sector of society entrance into your institution because of their blood status and where they live? Why should magically born and raised children be excluded from the Clans due to something they have no control over? Such..._bigotry_. They don't have the same level of knowledge as their fellow incoming mundane raised students? _Teach them_. Give them the opportunity to learn it. Afterall, that's what a school is suppose to do. That's what our schools do right? They don't discriminate. A school isn't suppose to teach a sector of society that their way of life is superior to another's. A school is suppose to teach students how to integrate their different views and lifestyles in order to live together."

Albus slowly closed his eyes then smiled and got up from the chair he sat in.

"You've given me a lot to think on Gellert."

"Consider it an apology from an old friend."

The two nodded at each other. Just before Albus took his leave Gellert called out to him.

"Just out of curiosity Albus, why the supreme interest in the Potter boy? Surely you're not expecting this untrained child to save you all from the big bad Escapee From Death?"

Albus turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Certainly you do not expect me to divulge that information Gellert. I am not slow of wit nor lacking in commonsense."

Gellert threw his head back and let out great loud belly gruffs.

"Fair enough! I can't help but wonder though you must admit it is a rather peculiar move. He is quite young to be expected of such heroisms. Perhaps we may have been capable of such feats at that age but we were such rarities. The boy is hardly out of nappies Albus."

"Ahh that is true. I'm not sure I would have been capable of such a thing at that age though. Why I do believe that the boy has more in common with you Gellert than myself and you just admitted to being quite capable of the feat old friend. I have faith in the lad. He will do what is right."

With these final words Albus left the prison in a swirl of overly bright robes. Gellert watched him go before allowing his face to take on a thoughtful look. He waved his hand and a spark of light appeared before taking on the shape of a chilled glass of sweet red wine. He casually took a sip.

"You've grown old Albus. I remember a time when you were better at chess than this."

He leaned back in his chair in contemplation. The boy was like him Albus had said. He smiled. What...interesting information. One must wonder if Albus would eventually realise what he had inadvertently given away. Gellert tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair before snapping them. A small ball of light appeared before morphing into a tiny bumblebee. This was his own invention. An experimentation of his slowly returning soulbending abilities where he allowed drops of blood within the balls of reiryoku and manipulated the blood cell structure into the telepathic ones found within the brain. With this he had been able to send various people messages and steadily re-establish quite a bit of his information network. Whoever said a Soul Bender had no bloodbending abilities had never found a way to lock away the Soul Bender's power. Gellert's bloodbending potential may be lower than most but it was certainly present. He spoke directly to the bumblebee shaped light before sending it flying out the window.

So the boy was like him._ Well well well_….

* * *

It observed the new harsh lines in it's prison with curiosity.

It cocked it's head to the side.

It touched the new lines.

Cracks. Cracks? It stroked the cracks.

Something had happened to it's prison. Something significant.

"_Hiiiiiiiiii_" It said to the cracks in a high-pitched sing-song childish voice as it stroked it.

"_I_ **s.e.e** you"

**It smiled cruelly.**


End file.
